Blood and Gold
by AlphaVeridian
Summary: "One last job." That's what Nathan Moore has said for the last five years. "One last job and I'll retire." When the company he works for signs a contract with the government of Japan to send an armed escort with a representative from Hashimoto Technologies into the Special Region, his "one last job" might truly be his last.
1. Chapter 1: One Last Job

**A.N: Throughout this story, there are real world organizations and pieces of technology that are mentioned. I do not own the rights to any of them. Other than that, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

In the dead of night, a man slept uneasily in his home. His dreams were cut short by the loud ringing of a telephone. He sat up in his bed and looked around the dark bedroom. His gaze moved to the bright screen of a cell phone, indicating that he was being called by "Work". He picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Good morning, Mister Moore. We have just recently acquired-" the voice on the other line started before being cut off.

"Alright; why in the hell are you calling me so damn early? It's-" Moore looked at the phone's screen, checking the time, before placing it back near his ear. "Three in the morning. What's so important that you need to call me at this ungodly hour?"

"Well, Mister Moore, if you would let me finish, we have just recently acquired a contract from a company known as Hashimoto Technologies. Have you heard of the Ginza incident in Japan?"

"Yeah. That gate to another dimension or something, right?"

"Indeed, Mister Moore. The Japanese government has signed an agreement with Hashimoto Technologies to slowly integrate beneficial technology into the Special Region. Our company has been given the pleasure of providing protection for the representative. Travel preparations have been arranged for you, and you are to meet with the operation director at our headquarters outside Paris."

"Alright. I'll be there immediately. Goodbye."

He hung up, pulled the covers over himself, and went back to sleep.

* * *

It was breakfast time in the Moore household, and a conversation was taking place in the kitchen.

"Do you think there'll be dragons there?" A young girl asked Moore, anxiousness present in her voice.

She was young, probably around eight or so. She had green eyes like Moore, but her hair was a deep brown.

"I'd say so. If I can, I'll try to bring you back a tooth or something. One condition, though: you have to be good for Nana while I'm gone. If I hear about even one problem, you can just forget it." Moore replied, not looking up from the range. The eggs were almost finished.

"Bring me back a sword! I can bring it to show and tell and Bobby'll be so jealous!"

"Yeah. Not gonna happen. Just be good for Nana and I'll see what I can do. Alright, Mel?" He asked.

He plated the eggs and set them on the table.

"Alright." Her eyes lowered in a defeated expression. "When do you think you'll be back? You were gone for a while last time."

Mel picked at her eggs with her fork.

"Don't play with your food." He scolded. "I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll call you before I'm gone, alright? I'm going to have to leave soon. Think you'll be fine for a few hours until Nana gets here?" He asked.

She nodded in response. He tousled her hair, finished his breakfast, and went upstairs to finish packing. He walked into the bathroom and prepared to shave. He looked into the mirror. He was white, with short blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked to be around his mid to late thirties, with an athletic build. Mel was waiting for him near the front door. He knelt down and gave her a hug.

"I love you, daddy." She said. She hugged him tighter.

"I love you too. Tell Nana I said hello, alright?" He replied. He planted a kiss on her forehead, then got up, flashed her a smile, opened the door and left for the airport.

* * *

Moore climbed out of the taxi, walked to the trunk and collected his bag. The driver bid him au revoir, and he replied in turn. This was the place. The building wasn't too old, maybe a decade or so, and had an ultra-modern feel from its architecture and design. Near the entrance, a large sign read "Bellerose Internationale". Multiple cars were parked in the parking lot adjoining the building. Most of them belonged to big name news companies. He walked to the entrance and activated the intercom.

"Bonjour? Astu un rendezvous?" The receptionist asked.

"Hello? I don't speak french. Do you know English?" Moore asked.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I'm here for the next contract. Nathan Moore?"

"Yes, Mister Moore, I'll let you in." The intercom buzzed, indicating that the door was unlocked. Moore pushed it open. The interior was just as ultra-modern as the exterior. The receptionist was a young woman, probably in her mid to late twenties.

"Go to the briefing room. Director Bellerose should be there. You'll need this name tag." She said, placing a name tag on top of the desk without looking up from her computer. Moore rolled his eyes and walked down the hallway.

After a short walk, he reached a room with double doors. On the wall was a small nameplate that read "Briefing room" in multiple languages. He pushed open the doors and entered. The room was large, with multiple rows of chairs facing a raised dais with a podium. He looked around the room and saw news teams and other contractors like himself. He spotted his friends. He walked over and joined them.

"Afternoon, Smoke. How're you doing?" Asked one of them, his accent giving away his British heritage. He was young. Probably twenty-six or so, with short brown hair and green eyes. He looked to have recently shaved. His name tag read "Daniel Abrams".

"How's Melissa?" Asked another. He looked to be Hispanic, but with an american accent. Probably around the southwest. He looked older than Abrams, even older than Moore. Maybe in his late thirties to his early forties. His name tag read "Manuel Santiago".

"She's fine." He sat down. "So who did we outbid for this? Blackwater? Erinys?"

"We outbid all of them. Bellerose really thinks we can get some kind of indefinite deal with Japan for protecting civilian VIPs. Doesn't think the JSDF can handle it while also protecting their own borders. Fucking barmy bastard." Abrams replied.

"Both of you be quiet. The Director is going to speak." Santiago interjected.

The room got quiet as someone walked onto the dais. An older man, with graying hair and piercing blue eyes, walked behind the podium and looked around the room. He cleared his throat and began to speak. His voice was gravelly, with an obvious french accent.

"Ladies and gentlemen: we are on the precipice of Bellerose Internationals' greatest achievement to date. I have recently finished speaking with the CEO and board of directors of Hashimoto Technologies and the Prime Minister of Japan, and we have been given the honor of being the first non-JSDF military force to set foot within the Special Region." He said, garnering a few murmurs from the crowd. The Director waited until the murmuring stopped to continue.

"As of now, we are mustering our top contractors to be a part of this operation. We are sending Japan the best that Bellerose International has to offer. The representative will be accompanied by an armed escort made up of Bellerose Internationals' most elite security contractors, along with support staff to aid the Japanese Government where needed. Before we undertake this monumental feat, my forces will be trained and screened accordingly. I will now answer any questions related to the operation." He concluded.

Moore felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw that Santiago had tapped him on the shoulder. Abrams speaking with some of the other contractors there. They had all grouped up and were leaving through one of the exits. Santiago was waiting for Moore to turn his gaze back to him before speaking.

"Hey. We're going to the rec room. Gonna try to make sense of this. You coming?" Santiago asked.

Moore nodded in agreement. He got up and joined the group as they went to the rec room. The rec room was rather large, with multiple tables, couches and a bar stocked with many kinds of alcohol. Moore, Abrams, and a handful of other contractors sat at the bar, while Santiago poured drinks for the group. Others were spread throughout the room, playing cards, pool, or just watching television.

"Training? Screening? What's all that for? We've never needed it before!" Abrams said.

"That's what Bellerose referred to it as. It's not that. We're getting the same thing we normally get: a course on language and customs, and a physical and psych exam before we go. It's just so people don't try to call us out for being PMCs." Santiago explained, pouring a glass of absinthe for one of the contractors. An Israeli man, with short brown hair and a burn mark on the side of his face.

"It'll probably be a month or so somewhere close to the gate, and then we'll get our gear, meet the VIP and go in." The contractor added, before taking a swig of his drink. The others nodded in agreement.

"What do you think we'll be given? As far as I know, there aren't any guns in the Special Region that don't belong to the JSDF. We can't just buy guns there this time." Abrams asked, finishing his glass of whiskey.

"The quartermaster said we're getting a different kit than what we're used to. Little birds, APCs, guns that fire the same calibers as the JSDF, and two black hawks. We won't have to worry about buying ammo or bringing it ourselves. I believe he said AK-12's and P226's." Santiago explained.

Some time later, Bellerose entered the room, an assistant followed him, pushing a small cart laden with manila folders.

"May I have your attention please? Everyone!" His voice resounded through the room. Everyone turned to him. He sat down at one of the tables as everyone came over to hear what he had to say. When they were situated, he began speaking to them.

"Tomorrow, you're all going to be loaded onto our C-130 for the trip to Japan. You will land at Haneda Airport, offload your gear and head for a residential area located near the gate. There, you that are not fluent in Japanese will take language classes, along with an introductory course on the language of the Special Region. That will take one month. After that, you are to collect your gear and accompany an attachment of JSDF forces into the Special Region. Allard, would you please pass out the briefings?" He said.

The assistant began passing out the manila folders to each of the contractors. They began reading through them while listening to Bellerose.

"Moore, Abrams, Santiago, Coughlin and Cohen. You're the armed escort for the representative. If need be, there will be auxiliary teams on standby in case one of you are injured or killed. The rest of you will stay at Alnus Hill, as it is called, and provide extra support and security for the JSDF. The payout will be one-thousand a day for three months, totaling in the equivalent of ninety-two thousand United States dollars. Hashimoto, along with the Japanese government, have payed well for our services. In those dossiers you will find everything you will need to know for your operations within the Special Region. None of you fail me. I only expect the best from you all." He finished his speech, stood up, and left the room, followed by the assistant.

The contractors looked at each other with both worried and intrigued faces, before one of them raised their voice.

"This is gonna be fuckin' weird."

* * *

Moore stared at the little spinning dot on the computer screen. He wondered if maybe they were asleep. He called Nana and told her about this, so he was sure they weren't asleep. Was something wrong? No. There can't be anything wrong. They live in a nice neighborhood. His thoughts were cut short by the screen coming to life. He could see himself in the corner of the screen, but almost all of it was taken up by Melissa and his mother. Melissa looked so happy to see him, and he could tell his mother was happy seeing her happy.

"Hey Daddy! I really miss you! Are you almost finished with your thing? Bobby doesn't think you'll bring me back a sword but I told him you will! Pleeeeeeeease?" Melissa asked.

"I've got a few more months and I think I'll be finished. It might be extended if the important people think they still need us. I'll try to be home as soon as possible, alright? I miss you too. I love you, you know that right?" He responded.

Over the next hour or so, they caught up with what he missed, Moore sat intently, listening to everything Melissa told him, eventually, she had to go to sleep, and Nana sent her up to bed. Before the call ended, she spoke to him.

"You really need to stop with all this. You don't even know how dangerous this place is. Melissa needs you, and if you can't be there for her, you're no better than her mother." She said, the brutal honesty cutting through him like a knife.

"I know. This is my last job, then I'll retire. I'll make enough from this to make sure she won't have to worry about anything for a long time. I'm doing this for her, you know." He responded in a sullen tone, not looking her in the eye.

"That's what you said four years ago. I'll see you when you come back. Hopefully."

The call ended, and Moore was alone.

* * *

Moore and his team stepped out of their Humvee. They walked out of the way of the other contractors and began stretching. They'd spent a long time cooped up in that thing, and they wanted to stretch their legs a bit before they had to get back in. During the trip, he got to know the other two members of his unit. They were Rory Coughlin and Danila Cohen. Rory was even younger than Abrams, being twenty-five. His hair was brown and short, and it complimented his green eyes. Like Abrams, he was from the United Kingdom, Northern Ireland to be exact. He'd been a part of some operations with Abrams when they were deployed to Afghanistan, and through his recommendation was given a chance to join Bellerose. Cohen on the other hand was twenty-nine. He was from Israel, and was originally part of the IDF. When he left the service, he took up a job with Bellerose hoping to escape the strife within his country. As it turned out, he was the Israeli that was at the bar with him. There were a considerable amount of contractors within the security division of Bellerose International, so Moore hadn't met all of them, and he definitely hadn't met Cohen before. He'd remember someone like him, that was for sure.

"Alright! Everyone back in! We've got twenty minutes before we go through the gate. Stash your crap and get ready!" He shouted. His team did as they were told. He got back in the passenger seat and waited for Abrams to get back behind the driver seat.

"Ow ow ow. Pulled a shoulder muscle. Fuck shit damn it hurts! Embarking in a moment Smoke!" Abrams replied from outside the Humvee. A moment later, the Humvee was full again. Anything that wasn't one of his teammates was either something that needed to be taken in, or something one of them wanted to take in. Everyone had a camera with them, save for Cohen. To say it was cramped was an understatement. In front and behind them were trucks carrying supplies, vehicles, or other troops. While they waited for the signal to move, he looked at some of the passing JSDF. At first glance, they looked disciplined. Maybe this was their first time going into a real combat zone. Hopefully they'll never see combat. He shook the thought out of his mind and focused on his team.

Abrams was sitting in the driver's seat, his face expressing boredom. Coughlin was toying with his phone, Santiago was reading the language guide they were all given, and Cohen was watching the passing soldiers. He guessed they were as ready as they'd ever be.

"Anyone think they'll see something weird over there? Like fish people or something?" Moore asked, trying to start conversation.

"It said in the dossier that there are confirmed sightings of dragons, goblins, ogres, canine people, feline people, rabbit peop-" Santiago cut himself off. He closed the book, reached into his pack and pulled out the dossier again, skimming over it. "Rabbit people?"

"Doc, it said that there were rabbit people. 'Warrior Bunnies' or something like that. Almost all female. Maybe you'll find a new wife there, Smoke?" Abrams said, lightly poking Moore in the ribs with his elbow. Moore slapped it away.

"Not getting married again. You know that." Moore replied in an annoyed tone.

"Think there'll be Minotaur's there? That'd be something to write to the hunters club about." Coughlin added.

"Maybe. Just worry about getting the job done. Alright Coughlin?" Cohen responded in an icy tone. He turned his head back to the window. With that, the conversation ground to a halt.

The time until they were given the go-ahead was passed in silence. Slowly, the vehicles started moving forward, and Moore's Humvee followed suit. He couldn't see the dome encircling the gate opening, but he could certainly hear it. Eventually they reached the gate itself. The portal was pitch black. Coughlin reached for his rosary and recited the lord's prayer under his breath. Cohen stared out into the black sea of infinity. Santiago turned on his flashlight and continued to read the dossier. Abrams focused on the vehicle in front of them. Looking out into the darkness, Moore thought to himself.

 _How the hell could the Ginza invaders pass through here? This is terrifying!_

After what felt like an eternity, they finally saw daylight again. They left the darkness of that portal behind them and were pleased to see a familiar sight. They were directed to the motor pool, where they parked and exited their Humvee, they unloaded anything important and took it with them, then they loaded everything else onto a dolly, played rock, paper, scissors to see who would push it, with Cohen being the loser, and left to find their barracks. While doing so, they were able to take in their surroundings. This was less like the FOB it was said to be and more like a damn fortress.

"This is gonna be fuckin' weird." Moore said, dumbfounded. His team nodded in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2: Making Waves

**A.N: I'm surprised at the reaction to the story! In all seriousness though, I ask that if you see something wrong (I.E. grammar errors I missed, syntax or punctuation, ETC.) that you tell me so I can rectify it. Other than that, Enjoy!**

* * *

Over the next few hours, the team had partially set up in their barracks. It wasn't great, but at least they could sleep now and would finish setting up their room tomorrow.

"Jesus! How much stuff did we need?" Abrams exclaimed, falling into his cot.

"A lot. That's the best way to put it. I'd rather us not need to ask the JSDF for much. Let's take a look at our gear." Moore said. He motioned at Cohen, who reached for a stack of gun and equipment cases. He laid them out on the floor and opened them. They each took their weapons. The only attachments that they were issued were reflex sights, angled foregrips and bayonets. Abrams was also issued a bipod and telescopic sight due to his prior experience.

"AK-12's. God!" Coughlin inspected his rifle before inserting a magazine and chambering a round. "I kind of feel sorry for the JSDF. They gotta use those dinosaurs out there and we get these nice toys to play with! How the hell did Bellerose get a hold of these?" Coughlin asked as he unloaded his rifle.

"Export versions. Hopefully we won't have to use these." Santiago answered, inspecting his P226.

"They expected that they might have to turn tail fast, so they issued their forces older rifle models. Turns out they didn't need to. From what the dossier said, the people of the Special Region love them. Some 'Hero of Ginza', that guy that spoke at the Japanese diet? His team held off some kind of bandit raid on a city called Italica until reinforcements could arrive. He got the people talking about them." Cohen explained.

"If things go well, we can get out there with the rep, get a few surveys done and be out of here in a few months. This place looks nice, but I prefer Maine." Moore said.

There was a knock at their door. Moore stood up and went to answer it. Standing there was a Japanese CO.

"Greetings! The representative has finished speaking with Lieutenant General Hazama. The representative asks to speak with her personal escort. Please follow me." He explained. Moore turned to to look at his team. They stood up and followed the CO. After some time, they had reached a barracks. Outside it, there was a woman speaking to another Japanese CO. She saw the group and walked over.

"Greetings! I am Ayako Hashimoto. Are you five my armed escort?" She asked. She was young. Probably in her late twenties. Her hair was cut short, her eyes obscured by a pair of glasses. She spoke in fluent English, which surprised the team.

"Yes, Ma'am." Moore answered. "I'm Nathan Moore. I'm your team leader." He shook her hand.

They each shook her hand and introduced themselves.

"Daniel Abrams. Second-in-command and designated marksman. Glad to serve, Ma'am."

"Manuel Santiago. Combat lifesaver. Nice to meet you."

"Danila Cohen. Rifleman and radio operator."

"Rory Coughlin. Rifleman and certified badass, at your service."

Ayako chuckled at Coughlin's introduction. She adjusted her glasses before speaking.

"Well, Mister Moore, it is a pleasure to meet all of you. As of now, we are going to travel to the outlying civilian community with my survey team to see about possibly installing a small wind or solar farm. Meet me near the entrance to Alnus in thirty minutes." She explained.

"Acknowledged, Miss Hashimoto. We'll be there in twenty." Moore replied. "Team, back to the barracks. Get our gear packed."

The team responded and moved out, with Moore trailing behind. It didn't take long for them to pack. Everyone, save for Abrams and Santiago had the same things in their packs, who were bringing their bipod, scope and medical kit.

When they made it to the rendezvous, they weren't surprised to see that they were very early. It had only taken them fifteen or so minutes to pack, after all. When Ayako and her survey crew had reached them, she wasn't wearing her business attire anymore, but more durable outdoor attire. She greeted them and went to introduce her survey team. They could see some of their company's engineers were accompanying them also.

"This shouldn't take too long. While my team conducts their survey, we can try to speak to the people and hopefully get their support. It wouldn't hurt to have some refugees help build it." Ayako explained, watching her team load up their survey truck.

"Alright, boss. You're riding with us." Moore responded as him and his team entered their Humvee, save for Coughlin, who was waiting for Ayako to enter.

"With you? Oh no. I have to stay with my team. You must understand that this is very important work we're doing." She responded.

"Well, our job is to keep you alive. You're getting in this Humvee. I know how important your work is, but it can't be done if you're dead. Just get in and stop arguing." Moore said in a stern voice.

Ayako looked more than a bit agitated at that.

 _Just who does this man think he is?! Doesn't he know I'm the daughter of the man who agreed to this contract?! How dare he speak to me in that tone of voice!_

She calmed herself down and entered the Humvee. She was seated between Cohen and Coughlin, who were sitting in the back seats. Moore turned to face her.

"I understand if you've never dealt with this before, but it's just procedure. If we think it's safer for you, we might lower the security. But that's up to my team and I." He explained.

When the go was given, the Humvee and the survey truck set out for their destination.

* * *

Maria was out buying groceries when there was a commotion near the entrance of the town.

 _I wonder what that's all about. Maybe there's something going on with the JSDF. I Might as well check it out._

She followed the crowd, but couldn't shove her way through to get a better look. She heard the same murmurs again and again.

"They must be bandits!"

"They're not dressed like the JSDF!"

"How did they get their hands on rifles?!"

Hearing the murmurs, she became rather frightened. How did bandits make it past the JSDF?! She struggled to get a better look. With some effort, she was able to push aside a few people to see the "bandits" they were talking about. There were five of them, all dressed in garb similar to what she'd only seen sold at the PX. They were cradling rifles, but they didn't look like the JSDF's. They were also speaking some language that she'd never heard before. Were they some foreign power like the JSDF? Why were they speaking with that Japanese woman? Why were they riding in JSDF vehicles? Her questions were answered when one of the JSDF guards spoke to the crowd.

"People of Alnus! Please do not fear these people! They, like us, are here to help you! Please treat them with as much respect as you give us!" He shouted.

Part of the crowd dispersed, the rest were cautiously watching the strange men. Maria was one of them.

"Smoke, what do we do? They're just looking at us." Abrams asked, a worried look on his face.

"Don't worry. Didn't you hear what the MP said? I don't think we'll have to worry about much unless someone pisses them off. Let's just get the rep set up in the bar and let her do her thing. Me and Coughlin will accompany her. You, Cohen and Santiago escort the survey team. I don't think we'll have to worry about anything this close to the base." He explained.

"Alright, Smoke. Just radio us if you run into any trouble and we'll come running." Abrams assured. The three walked off with the survey team, leaving Ayako, Coughlin and Moore to talk to the townspeople.

* * *

The team had walked into the bar they were directed to. When they entered, the whole bar went silent, all eyes on them. To Moore and Coughlin, it was another day on the job. They were used to being in places where the people didn't trust them. To Ayako, it was different. Even if she wasn't showing it, she was more than a little scared. Moore saw this. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"We've got you covered. I don't think you'll have to worry about anything. I'd guess we look pretty scary to them." He said.

"Thank you." She said, a smile on her face. She set up at one of the tables and got to work.

"Hello! What is your name and race, and reason for emigrating here, miss?" Ayako asked, typing on her laptop.

"I am Persia of the Cat People. I, along with the rest of the maids from the lord's manor at Italica, were moved here at the behest of Clan Formal." She said. While she spoke, Ayako was typing.

"Thank you. Now, we are proposing the construction solar panels. Do you know what those are?" She asked. Persia slightly cocked her head to the side in a confused manner.

"I'll take that as a no. Allow me to explain. What solar panels do is harness the power of the sun and turn it into electricity. If we install these, they will allow for more energy to make it's way into the town itself." Ayako explained. The look on Persia's face was close to astonishment.

"Y-you harness the power of the sun? That's amazing! You're saying it'll help us?!" She asked.

"Yes. It's beneficial to the town. It's not up to us to install them, though. The town as a whole has to agree to it. Please, spread the word and tell the other townspeople where to find us." Ayako said.

Persia nodded and left. Over the next hour, a small line began to form to see these "sun harvesters", as they were referred to. The line had gotten so large that Moore had to stand outside the bar and coordinate the line, while Coughlin guarded Ayako.

"Keep moving! When the person in front of you is finished speaking, go in!" He shouted. Just then, a scream was heard from around the corner. A man in a cloak that obscured his face was seen running away from something. He was clutching a sack to his chest. He heard a feminine voice from around the corner.

"Stop! Thief!"

Moore broke into a dead sprint, trying to intercept the man. The man saw this and tried to find a way out, a way to escape. He couldn't. Moore slammed into the man, using his rifle as a makeshift battering ram. He knocked the thief into a merchant's stall, smashing the front counter and causing the merchant to dive out of the way. When the thief fell, Moore pointed his rifle at him and began shouting.

"STAY ON THE GROUND! DON'T FUCKING MOVE!"

The merchant clambered to his feet and ran. The thief sprung to his feet, dropping the bag and drawing a knife. Moore moved back, pointing his rifle at him. The thief hurdled over the stall and tried to stab Moore. Moore moved to his left, dodging the stab, letting go of his rifle and grabbing the thief's arm. He twisted it hard, causing the thief to cry out and drop his knife. He forced the thief's arm behind his back and forced the him to his knees. A few moments later, the merchant came back, with two JSDF MPs running behind him. The MPs had begun taking the thief into custody when a woman came running over to the scene. She explained the whole situation. Apparently, the thief had indeed stolen her bag and tried to escape with it, but it appeared one of the sun harvesters stopped him.

"Thank you, Sun Harvester! Thank you!" She said. She pulled something out of her bag and pushed it into Moore's hands. It appeared to be a handful of coins. He gave all but one back to her.

"It's fine. It was just a reaction. Keep your money. I'll keep this one though. My daughter wants a souvenir." He replied, stuffing the coin into his pocket. She continued to thank him for a moment before leaving. The line had since dispersed into a crowd that surrounded Moore. He got more than a few pats on the back and compliments before he had managed to corral them back into an orderly line. While he was corralling them, Coughlin had left the bar, wondering what the commotion had been.

"What the hell happened out here, Sir?! What's with all the cheering?" He asked.

"Apparently I stopped a thief. Broke a merchant stall though. I'll have to apologize for that. I'm probably going to be in trouble when we get back to Alnus Base, though." Moore explained.

"Why the hell did you interfere?!"

"It's an involuntary reaction. Seeing a man, clearly dressed for clandestine activities, running away from something AND clutching something to his chest screamed trouble to me. I didn't want to shoot him. That'd probably cause a panic. I don't like panics. The MP's weren't nearby, so he probably would've gotten away. Not to mention that the lady said he was a thief. I think I'm going to be fine, or at least I won't be kicked out for it. He also tried to stab me, so I can add self-defense to my claim." Moore explained.

"I hope you're right, sir. If we get in trouble, I'm claiming that you were the mastermind behind that. I had nothing to do with it." Coughlin said, before going back in the bar.

"I'll take the heat. Hopefully we won't get in much trouble." Moore replied as Coughlin walked away.

* * *

"Tell me the whole story from your perspective. We have already gotten two sides of it from both the thief and the woman who he stole from, but now we need yours." The MP asked Moore. They were sitting in an interrogation room set up in the makeshift jail in Alnus City.

"I was coordinating the line of people who wished to speak to Miss Hashimoto, and then the thief rounded the corner. I've had to deal with insurgencies before, and the man looked very suspicious to me. Someone shouted about a thief, I thought it was him. I intercepted him, knocked him to the ground, and tried make sure he stayed down until I was sure that your MP's could come and apprehend him. He drew a knife and tried to stab me, so I disarmed him in a painful, but nonlethal way. I know that I'm not authorized to deal with stuff like that, but since your MP's weren't around, I decided to perform something akin to a citizen's' arrest until your MP's could arrive on scene." Moore explained.

"Well, Mister Moore, in Japan, what you did falls under false imprisonment, as the man had only committed petty theft. But considering that this was only the second crime committed within Alnus, and considering that the man wasn't badly injured, I'm going to let you off with a warning. _**Don't. Do. It. Again.**_ Do you understand?" The MP asked.

"I understand, sir. It won't happen again." Moore answered.

"I'm glad to hear that, Moore. Personally, I feel you handled the situation as best you could. I'm just glad you didn't shoot him. You would have gotten in much more trouble if you had." The MP held out his hand. Moore shook his hand and left the jail.

When he reached the bar again, the line had gotten considerably longer. Thankfully, his team had arrived and were handling the situation as best they could. Santiago and Abrams were coordinating the line, while Coughlin and Cohen were guarding Ayako. Abrams walked over to Moore while Santiago continued coordinating the line.

"I heard about what ya did. Did ya get in trouble?" Abrams asked.

"Thankfully no. He said I handled it well. I'm glad it was me. I don't know how any of you would have handled it. No offense." Moore answered.

"None taken. I probably would have decked his arse worse than you did. Santiago would have handled it better. Don't know about Cohen and Coughlin, though."

"Well, it's in the past. Let's just hope it doesn't jeopardize what we're here for. How long until you think we'll be done?"

"No idea. The line doesn't look to be getting any smaller. Every time someone leaves, someone else gets in line. I'm thinking we're going to be here a while."

"Great. Just great. Go on inside. I'll take over for you out here."

"Thank you, Smoke. It's getting a bit too cool for my tastes out here."

Abrams walked back inside. Moore continued to help coordinate the line, even being thanked a few more times for stopping the thief. After a few more hours,it had gotten dark and the line was finally gone, and Ayako left the bar.

"Alright, Mister Moore, we can head back to Alnus now. Thank you for coordinating the line and stopping that thief. It got the people more on our side. I'm thinking that we are probably going to get the rights to set up the solar farm. The odds are looking good for us." She said.

"That's good to hear, Miss Hashimoto. Let's get back to the Humvee." Moore replied.

"Oh, and Mister Moore?"

"Yes?"

"Never talk down to me again. I'm the daughter of Ichiro Hashimoto, the current CEO of this company. I understand that your job is to protect me, but if that includes treating me like I'm a child, I'd rather do this without protection. Is that clear?" She asked. Her tone was threatening and dripping with venom. Moore was surprised that the woman could be so terrifying.

"L-loud and clear, Ma'am. This was for your safety. I won't talk like that again. I just ask that you listen to me and my team. It's for your safety. We'll reassess the situation and see if we should lighten security." He responded.

"Good. I'm sorry for snapping at you like that, but I had to get the point across."

With that, they loaded into the Humvee and set off for Alnus.


	3. Chapter 3: Settling In

**A.N: I thank all of you who have read this story so far! I'm still surprised at the reaction that I've gotten for this. I'm still working on the next chapter. It'll be considerably shorter than this one, but that's due to the nature of it. Once again, tell me if you notice any problems. Enjoy!**

* * *

It had been a few days after the survey. The town as a whole had agreed on the installation of the solar farm, much to the JSDF's relief, as some stress could be taken off of the generators, which had been running almost nonstop for the last few months. The estimated time for the construction, with a portion of the civilian populace aiding in the clearing and construction of the farm, would be around two to three weeks. At this time, Ayako was speaking to General Hazama about the projected benefits of the farm.

"If we continue to garner support like this, the generators powering the city could be moved into a standby role. Hopefully, within three month's time, we can convert all the settlements in the surrounding area to either wind or solar energy." Ayako explained.

"That's quite a short time frame. Are you sure that you can accomplish something that substantial? You don't have a large survey team, and only a handful of engineers from the PMC." He said.

"I believe that we can acquire assistance from the general populace. They can assist in clearing the land and building the enclosures, while my engineers can construct the solar farm itself. They seem pretty amazed that we can harness the power of the sun and convert it into electricity. They refer to me, my escort, and my survey team as 'Sun Harvesters'. That amazement can prove beneficial, General." She retorted.

"I understand that. Now, why ask for help from the populace? They don't understand how the technology works." He asked.

"If we show them that we trust them enough to aid in the construction process, they might be more forthcoming to more forms of non-petroleum based energy. As far as I know, winter must be harsh for these people. We could possibly talk them into using geothermal energy for heating their homes."

"Hmm. Well, Miss Hashimoto, you seem to think that this will turn in our favor. I hope that you are correct."

"I believe I am, General. Just give me and my men time. We can win them over to our side. I plan on doing anything I can think of to win their trust." Ayako said, smirking. She stood up, bowed to the general, and left the room.

* * *

"I still don't know why you didn't just shoot him in the leg. It would have incapacitated him just as well as if you'd disarmed him." Cohen said.

"I didn't want to cause a panic. We're trying to win hearts and minds here. You don't want to just go around shooting people left and right." Moore replied.

"What would have happened if Moore had hit his femoral artery? He would have bled to death before he could have gotten medical attention. I feel that Moore handled it as best he could given the circumstances." Santiago added.

"Why give medical attention to a goddamned thief? Let him die. Less scum in the world." Coughlin replied.

"People think that WE'RE scum, Coughlin. The view on PMCs isn't great. You can thank Blackwater for that. Running people off the road, shooting civilians, pissing off the locals... Would you like it if we were killed? I think a lot of people would. They think we're just as bad as Blackwater just because we're PMC's." Abrams retorted, raising his voice.

"There's a reason we're pretty secretive about a lot of our operations. There's people out there that look for any kind of ammo they can to discredit us. It's better to give them as little ammo as possible." Moore replied. The door to the command center opened and Ayako walked out.

"Alright, Mister Moore. We can head back to our quarters. I believe we have ensured our operation in the surrounding area for quite some time. I don't think that we'll have to worry about encountering any problems with the solar farm." She said.

"That's good to hear, Miss. We'll escort you back to your quarters." Moore replied. He then gave the signal for his team to fall in.

They walked with Ayako in the middle of their formation. They were trained for this. In the case of a conflict breaking out, they would form up around the package and escort them out of the combat zone. Ayako pulled on Moore's sleeve. The formation stopped and Moore turned to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I saw someone over there that I wish to talk to. Let's go over and speak to him."

Moore nodded. When Ayako broke off, him and his team followed.

When they reached Ayako, they were surprised to say the least. She was talking to some JSDF CO. He was laden down with scrolls, boxes, a scepter, and what appeared to be a large bundle. He also had an extravagant cloak draped around his shoulders and was wearing some sort of nobleman's hat. When they further closed the distance, they could make out what she was saying.

"Thank you for saving the people of Ginza. My niece was there and if you'd not been there, I don't know what would have happened!"

"It's fine, Ma'am. I was just doing my job..."

He looked embarrassed. When the team had gotten within earshot of Ayako, she turned to them.

"These are my armed escort. They're security contractors from Bellerose International. We're part of the Special Region Renewable Energy Project. This is First Lieutenant Yoji Itami. He is the Hero of Ginza." She said.

"Nathan Moore. Team leader. Pleasure to meet you."

"Daniel Abrams. Second-in-command and designated marksman. Good to finally meet you."

"Manuel Santiago. Combat lifesaver. It's a pleasure."

"Rory Coughlin. Rifleman. I'd shake your hand, but..."

"Danila Cohen. Rifleman and radio operator."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you..." He said.

"Would you like some help carrying that back to your quarters? My men and I can assist you." Ayako asked. The team looked at her with a suspiciously.

"That'd be great. Thank you." Itami said. Ayako looked at the team. They nodded and took some of Itami's burden. As they walked to his quarters, Ayako tried to engage in conversation.

"So, First Lieutenant Itami... Just how did you get all these commendations?" She asked.

"I killed the fire dragon." He replied.

"Fire dragon? I don't think the dossier said anything about those. Exactly what was it?" Moore asked.

"Probably the best way to describe it was if you take a tank and put wings on it. Then give the tank arms and piss it the hell off when you blow one of them off. It... was a massive danger to everyone. We had to take it down and no one was willing to do it. I decided to do it, at the behest of a new friend. The downside is that I wasn't ordered to do it. And I left post. The best way to describe what I did was go AWOL." Itami answered.

"So why did you get all these awards? Strange that they're rewarding you for insubordination."

"Well, I did get punished. A two week suspension and a one month salary cut. I'm also no longer in command of my recon team. But me and my team rescued some captured Japanese citizens, so I don't know if it leveled it out or not. I've been moved to resource investigation."

"And that job is?"

"Just drive around and look for resources. That's what I was told to do."

Moore and Abrams looked at each other suspiciously.

"That's it? Nothing else? Sounds like demotion to me." Abrams commented. Santiago nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like bloody a dream. No PT, no constantly getting shot at, no worrying about nothing else but food, water and gas." Coughlin added.

"Sounds peaceful." Cohen agreed.

"If you ever need help, let us know. Beats babysitting a bunch of eggheads." Coughlin said.

Ayako shot him an irritated glare. She turned back to Itami.

"So, is there anything you might need from our company? Survey equipment? Extra guards? Anything?" She asked.

"T-that won't be necessary. I think they'll cover it. I'm thinking I won't need any of that."

"Are you sure? We **are** here to help the JSDF. If you need anything before you set out, let us know."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They reached Itami's quarters. They had set everything down on his table, leaning their rifles against it when there was a knock at the door. Moore went to open it, but whoever was on the other side beat him to it. Standing in the doorway was a blonde-haired female elf, a young girl with bright-blue hair, and another girl, younger than the blue-haired one, dressed in a frilly black and red dress, cradling a halberd. They looked at him. He looked at them. He turned to face Itami.

"Friends of yours?" He asked. He never got an answer as they shoved past him and into the room. They bombarded Itami with questions so quickly that Moore couldn't translate it fast enough. A few moments later, Itami had settled them down and introduced them.

"Miss Hashimoto, these three are friends of mine." He said.

"Oh, I know all about them. They were with you at the National Diet, were they not?" She asked. Itami nodded.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Moore, allow me to introduce them to you."

"That will not be necessary." The child with the halberd said. Ayako was surprised at the interruption.

"I am Rory Mercury, apostle of Emroy, god of darkness, war, death, violence, and insanity. It is a pleasure to meet you." She said, ending with a smirk.

"I am Lelei La Lalena. I am a mage and translator for the JSDF." Lelei said, shocking the team with how emotionless her voice was.

"Hello. I'm Tuka Luna Marceau. It's nice to meet you five." She looked away, trying to avoid their gaze. They looked considerably scarier than the JSDF. Their hard expressions put her off. Moore noticed this.

His expression softened.

 _Girl's scared out of her wits. Better fix this._ He thought.

"Sorry if we came off a little rough around the edges. We're pretty okay once you get to know us. I'm Nathan Moore, team leader." He said.

"Daniel Abrams. Second-in-command and designated marksman. Good to finally meet you."

"Manuel Santiago. Combat lifesaver. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Danila Cohen. Radio operator and rifleman."

"Rory Coughlin. Rifleman. Great to meet you. Especially you, miss."

He winked and smiled at Tuka. She hid behind Itami in response, peeking out over his shoulder.

"Rory, is your name common in your land? You don't look Japanese." Lelei asked.

"I'm not Japanese. I'm from a beautiful land of emerald called Ireland. My name's actually more common than you'd think. Not as common as Conor or Jack, but common enough." He said.

The questions kept coming. What kind of rifle is that? Why aren't you wearing the same uniform as the SDF? Why do you have such strange accents? The night dragged on and eventually the team had to get some rest. They bid farewell to Itami and the girls. They took Ayako to her quarters before heading to theirs.

"They don't seem all that bad. Lelei's voice creeped me the fuck out though. It's like talking to a damned robot." Coughlin said. He leaned his rifle against the wall and laid down on his bed. The room had been given an renovation. Instead of having cots, they finally had bunks, lockers to store their gear in, and even a table with two chairs.

"Yeah. I wonder why that is. Do you think all mages are like that?" Abrams asked.

"Probably not. I'd guess that's just her personality. She was kind of quiet the whole time, save for asking questions and translating." Santiago said.

"That Mercury woman seems less sadistic in person." Cohen said.

"Woman? She looks like she's fuckin' twelve!" Coughlin replied.

"Didn't you watch the diet? It turns out she's older than anyone on earth. Nine-hundred or so." Santiago added.

"You're pulling my fuckin' leg! I thought she was making that up! Y'know, kids being kids and all that."

"Did you try picking up her halberd? Thing's too damn heavy. No way that girl's normal." Abrams commented.

"Fine, fine. I believe you. Next you'll be saying that there are nazis on the moon."

"All of you get to sleep! We've got a long day ahead of us."

Moore shut off the lights.

* * *

It was around midnight. The door to the barracks opened and a male figure, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, stepped out and walked around to the back of the barracks. As he left the door he pulled the hood over his head.

The figure leaned against the barracks wall, his tense demeanor relaxing as he stood there. He heard footsteps coming around the side, but they were too close. He'd just have to deal with whatever it was.

Rory Mercury rounded the corner, a wry smile on her face.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, Moore? You talked about how busy a day you had tomorrow." She asked.

"Shouldn't YOU be asleep?" He said, his voice rife with fatigue. He pulled the hood down. He looked like he'd not gotten any sleep at all. His hair was a mess and sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Sorry. I just had a bit of a nightmare. A bad, bad, bad nightmare. It's over now but I don't think I'm gonna be able to get back to sleep without taking something." He finished.

"Taking something? What do you mean?" Rory asked.

"Drugs, sleeping pills, soporifics, sedatives, herbs. Whatever you want to call them. Sometimes I'm like this. It doesn't happen often anymore, but sometimes it'll come back. I needed some fresh air."

"I can see that. It's a nice night out."

"Yep. Real nice. Kind of reminds me of Maine. I used to live in a place called Los Angeles, the City of Angels. You can't see the stars at night there. Too bright out."

"So this 'Main' isn't like Japan?"

"Not at all. It's in a different country. Mostly forest with small villages and towns. At least around where my family lives."

"You have a family? You never mentioned that."

"I don't talk about her too much. No one asks." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He showed Rory a picture of him and Melissa. It looked like summer, with him wearing shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses and Melissa wearing a sundress. They were both smiling.

"Is it just you and your daughter?"

Moore nodded.

"Her mom died 5 years ago. It's the reason I started doing all this. The pay's good, so she won't have to grow up like I did." He put the phone back in his pocket.

"And what was that like?"

"Not exactly ideal. Dad died before I was born and Mom was never around. Too busy working to take care of me. Got older, got stupider. Got into trouble and the judge gave me community service. I got to talking with a guy who was a recruiter for the Marines, and I decided it was better than being at home."

"How did that turn out for you?"

"Better than if I'd stayed in L.A., that's for sure."

"Hmm. Well, it was nice talking to you, Moore. You enjoy the night. I'll take my leave."

With that, Rory left and Moore was alone.

* * *

The survey team and armed escort were gathered around a large map of the area surrounding Italica. Ayako was speaking to both Moore and the leader of the survey team.

"According to one of the recon teams, there is supposedly a hot spring around here." She pointed to a spot on the map. It was about fifty or so miles outside Italica.

"I think that we should see if it is capable of supporting a geothermal energy plant."

"Are you sure, Miss Hashimoto? This might be a bit too far out. Shouldn't we continue with the surrounding area around Alnus?" The Chief Surveyor asked.

"How many other small settlements are there? Most of the population moved to the settlement near Alnus when the JSDF erected it. We can worry about the small projects after we've verified if the larger ones are worth tackling." She replied. The Surveyor nodded.

"Now, since we don't exactly know where this spring is, I think this could be a good time to try to work with the JSDF. I've requested that the recon team who discovered the spring accompany us and show us exactly where it is." She continued.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Abrams whispered to Moore.

"I know. If it turns out that nothing is there, we won't have to worry. If it turns out that there's a threat there, we'll at least have backup." Moore whispered back.

"Miss Hashimoto, since this is rather far off the beaten path, wouldn't it be much safer for you to stay here? Me and my team will accompany the survey crew." Moore said.

"Correct, Moore. I will indeed be staying at Alnus. I'll be finalizing the preparations for the solar farm at the refugee city. Now, since we've decided on our plan of action, I expect you to begin immediately."

"You heard the boss! Let's get saddled up!" Moore shouted. The teams sprang into action, and within a half-hours time, had gotten their vehicles ready for the journey. The recon team were also preparing their vehicles.

"Now comes the hard part." Moore said.

"Time to meet the recon team?" Abrams asked.

"Yep." Moore replied.

They began walking over to the Recon team.

* * *

Shino Kuribayashi had just finished packing the Humvee. From the other side, she heard Sergeant Major Kuwahara's voice.

"Shino! Get over here! We have company!" He shouted.

"Yes Sir!" She responded.

She walked around the Humvee and saw the mercenaries who guard that businesswoman. The rest of her team had already assembled.

"This is Sergeant First Class Shino Kuribayashi." Kuwahara said, motioning at her. She saluted.

"Good to meet you all." The blond-haired one said. She didn't show it, but she was surprised that he spoke Japanese, instead of fumbling through English, trying to get his point across.

"My boss said you know the location of a hot spring near Italica. We want to scout it and see if it can be converted into a geothermal energy plant. We were told you would be assisting us. I'm Nathan Moore, and this is my team. Daniel Abrams, Rory Coughlin, Manuel Santiago, and Danila Cohen." He said, motioning to the rest of his team.

"Good to meet you all. We're ready to go when you are." Kuwahara said.

"Let's do this, then." Moore said. He turned to his team and said something in English. She didn't understand what he said, but it got them moving to their Humvee. Kuwahara told her to move out, so she boarded the LAV.

"Sir, why did that company hire mercenaries? We could protect that small of a group of people!" Shino said.

"That's beyond my pay grade, but they don't seem to be too bad. Maybe the company didn't trust us. This is our first real military operation. Maybe they wanted to ensure their safety of their team." Kuwahara responded.

"Maybe. But maybe they should put more trust in us. We ARE their military, after all. I mean look at them! They don't even look like professionals! Wearing t-shirts and jeans, not wearing helmets..."

"I agree with you on that, Shino, but for now we'll have to deal with them. We've never seen them in action, so we can't just dismiss them."

"I guess. But they've been keeping to themselves. They haven't even gone to the town except for that one time! I'm having a hard time trusting them. That's all I'm saying. What if they're spies for another country or something?"

"You can't rule that out just yet, but if it turns out that way, you know what will happen to them. They've walked into the lion's den. I don't think that there's any country that would do something that foolhardy."

"I guess you're right. We're going to keep a close eye on them, though. Right?"

"Yes. We will."

* * *

After some time, they reached Italica. They were to meet with the JSDF stationed there, refuel their Vehicles, and make their way to the Spring. While Cohen and Santiago refueled the Humvee, Abrams walked over and spoke to Moore, who was consulting one of his phrasebooks.

"Hey Smoke, did you notice how the little brown-haired one keeps watching us? It's kinda weird." He asked.

"Yeah. I noticed. Just ignore her. It's what I've been doing." Moore replied, not looking up from his phrasebook.

"I keep feeling her eyes on the back of my head, though. It's too creepy."

"I thought you were used to it like I was. Spent too much time with people throwing suspicious glares at me."

"Like when you were in Afghanistan? Everyone watching you all the time."

"Every time we left the wire."

Santiago and Cohen shouted that they were ready, so Moore and Abrams loaded back into the Humvee. RCT3 gave the go-ahead, and the group set out for the spring.

* * *

They reached the forest surrounding it, and had to leave their vehicles behind. After nearly an hour of walking, they reached it. To Moore, it looked like the mouth of a cave with water running out of it, forming a small stream.

"This is it?" He asked Kuwahara.

"No. The townspeople said that the spring was further in the cave. It's almost a straight shot there." Kuwahara replied.

"Alright. I'm going to go scout it out. Check for viable threats. I'll take three of my men. If you want to volunteer any of yours, go right ahead."

"Do you think we'll be sending you in alone? I'll send two of them in with you."

Moore nodded. After that, he began shouting orders.

"Coughlin! Cohen! You're with me! Abrams! Set up overwatch on the mouth of the cave. Santiago! Coordinate with their medic. We might get hurt in there. Kuwahara? Can you get your men to set up overwatch on the mouth of the cave?" Moore asked.

"Yes I can! Set up overwatch on the mouth of the cave! Don't fire on our own men if they come running out!" Kuwahara shouted.

"Kuribayashi! Tomita! Accompany them!"

"Yes, Sir!" They both resounded. They walked over to where Moore, Coughlin and Cohen were.

The three contractors had mounted theirs on their rifles when they arrived. "You two have flashlights? Can they mount on your rifles?" Moore asked. The two nodded. "You can? Alright. We'll lead the way. You two provide fire support. If something in there moves and it's hostile, shoot it. If we're outnumbered, we'll fall back into the killing field we set up at the mouth of the cave. If someone trips, provide cover fire for them until they can get back on their feet. I'm not losing anyone in there. You two got that?"

"Affirmative." Tomita answered.

"Yes." Kuribayashi answered.

"Alright! Let's move out!"

The group stepped into the mouth of the cave, their lights illuminating a considerable portion of the passageway. The water wasn't that deep here, maybe ankle-deep on Moore. The further they went in, the more humid it got. It didn't take long for them to reach the first bend in the passage.

"Stop!" Moore whispered, the team stopped advancing. "I'll scout ahead. I'll tell you if it's safe to move up."

Moore advanced in a low crouch. When he reached the bend, he pressed against the wall and pulled a small LED flashlight from a pocket on his vest. He peeked around the corner and scanned the area. Nothing. He switched off the flashlight, stuffed it back in his vest and returned to the team.

"Clear! Move up!"

They did as he told. Another thirty or so feet later, and they heard something. It sounded kind of like a growl. They scanned the area, but didn't discover anything. Suddenly, something materialized in front of them. It was reptilian, but it was as tall as Tomita. It's scales were speckled yellow and green, and the way it materialized was reminiscent of a chameleon changing its camouflage. When it saw them, it let out a loud hiss, and began advancing on the them.

"OPEN FIRE!" Moore shouted.

The group did as he said. They let loose a torrent of lead that ripped the reptile apart. In a few seconds, it was over. The shots rang out and reverberated in the cave. Coughlin shined his light on its corpse.

"The fuck was that?!" He said, panting.

"Don't know, but I'd say that it's hostile. Animals don't hiss at friends. What do you three think?" Moore responded.

They never got to answer. From deeper within the cave, a chorus of hissing was heard, and it was moving closer.


	4. Chapter 4: The Rising Storm

"Fall back! Fall back!" Moore shouted. He turned around and started running. Cohen, Coughlin, and Tomita followed without a second thought. Kuribayashi hesitated for a moment, before following suit.

"Why are we falling back?! We can take them!" She shouted.

"Too goddamn many! We're falling back!" Moore replied.

The team ran. They could see the light emanating from the mouth of the cave. The team broke into a dead sprint. They were almost there. A moment later and the team had escaped the cave.

"OPEN FIRE!" Moore shouted, Abrams and Santiago began firing into the cave. Kuwahara ordered for his team to follow suit. From within the cave, the hissing grew closer. In a moment the entrance of the cave erupted with activity. A wave of reptiles swarmed out of the cave, crawling over the corpses of their comrades. The teams continued firing, whittling the torrent of beasts to a trickle. Any that remained were either dead, dying or had retreated back into the cave.

"CEASE FIRE!" Moore shouted. His team stopped firing. Kuwahara and his team followed suit. The aftermath of the battle, if it could be called that, was gruesome to say the least. They had indeed swarmed. The team had dispatched them with little effort. Looking over the scene, one could see that maybe twenty or thirty of these creatures had been killed. The stream ran red.

"What the hell did you do in there?!" Kuwahara shouted at Moore.

"We pissed something off! What the hell are these?! You're a recon team! Aren't you supposed to know what these things are?!" He shouted back.

"Like we know what everything is around here!"

The two team leaders continued to argue, their teams watching. A few minutes later, they had stopped and had decided to regroup and make a new plan.

"If we don't finish this now, we'll probably have to head back in on a later date. Miss Hashimoto probably doesn't want to hear that we didn't finish the job." Cohen said.

"You're right, Cohen. I don't think she'll like hearing that. I'd like for me and my team to head back in. I'd like some backup, but it's up to you, Sergeant Major." Moore said, turning to Kuwahara.

"Did you see what they could do?! They can camouflage themselves! We need to head back and do this on another day. Sergeant?" Tomita said.

"I have to agree with Tomita, Moore." Coughlin said. "Did you see that? They could be anywhere in there AND they know we're coming now! This is a damn ambush if I ever saw one."

"How many are there in there, though?" Abrams said. "The cave system can't be that large. Maybe we can make something up. You have explosives with you? Anything we can use to seal the entrance? I'd rather not have those things roaming the countryside. Maybe it'd starve them out." He looked at the recon team.

"We only have LAM's. Maybe the survey team has some with them. Mining charges or something like that." Tomita replied, grasping for a solution.

"Could the LAM's work? They're designed to destroy tanks. They might collapse the entrance. Maybe." Kuwahara added.

"I don't see a solution. We might have to just come back later." Kurokawa stated.

"I see one: we go back in there and kill all of them. More of us though! If we form up and watch each other's backs, we might not be surrounded." Kuribayashi replied.

"We're not gonna try anything. We're gonna head back to the vehicles and see if we can contact Alnus. Maybe one of the mages know what these things are." Kuwahara said.

Moore nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan. I think we scared them off anyway."

* * *

When they reached the vehicles, the Survey Crew Foreman ran over to them.

"What was that shooting? We heard shooting! Are you all okay?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"We're fine. We ran into some trouble. Some kind of lizard things." Moore replied.

"Were they sapient? After spending half a month here, I question every single creature we come across."

"I don't know. They acted like animals. We're gonna see if we can contact the mages. They might know what they are."

Kuwahara entered his Humvee and tried to contact Alnus. Thankfully, he was able to get a signal.

"Central Command. This is RCT3. We have encountered an unknown species. Requesting to speak to Cato and Lelei, over."

"RCT3, this is Central Command. Request acknowledged. We're getting them for you, over."

He was patched through. He described the creatures to them.

"Yellow and green scales? Camouflage? That's a saurian. It's their spawning season. They're more aggressive this time of year."

"Will they leave the spring though? Will they follow us back to Italica?"

"Not during their spawning season. The mercenaries ran into a sentry. Before they killed it, it told the pack about the intruders."

"Should we just head back to Alnus? I'm beginning to think that this might be a lost cause."

"If you found a spawning ground, there's most likely a matriarch there. I'd recommend retreating and coming back with a larger force if you wish to clear it out."

"Okay. Thank you for informing us." He bid Cato farewell before hanging up and returning to the group.

"What'd they say?" Moore asked.

"It's probably a lair for those things. There might be a big one in there. He recommended leaving and coming back later."

"Alright. Hey, Chief! Can you give the boss a good excuse for not coming back? Make something up?" Moore asked the Foreman.

"We could maybe say that it was too far from Italica for feasible construction. Between you and Me; she doesn't know much about our field. She handles all the speaking. She's a Face. She's came to us on almost everything so far. We suggested the farm. There was prime real estate for one."

"Good enough for me. Everyone mount up! We're heading back to Alnus."

* * *

They'd been on the road for a few hours. Shino looked at Tomita and asked him a question.

"So what do you think about those mercenaries? They seem a little too cautious to me." She said.

"Caution is a good thing when you don't know what you're up against."

"I know that, but they're mercenaries! They think they're elite enough to sell their skills! I'd think that they'd be a bit more brave."

"Being brave and being bravely stupid are two different things. Need I remind you about charging a foe that outnumbers you? If Rory hadn't been there, you might have been overwhelmed."

She stopped speaking.

* * *

It was night when they returned to Alnus. They parked their vehicles, unloaded them and started walking back to their quarters.

"If any of you ever want to hang out, just let us know!" Abrams shouted, waving to the recon team as they walked away.

"Yeah, they're probably not gonna want to hang out." He said.

"Oh well. We'll manage." Cohen said.

"You're just a barrel of fun, aren't you Cohen?"

"Indeed I am."

They made it back to their quarters and settled in for the night. Santiago, Cohen, and Coughlin were playing cards, while Moore and Abrams spoke about plans of action.

"Alright Smoke, I've got a good feeling about that Foreman. I hope he'll be able to talk her out of making us go back there. We might have to just guard the construction site, hopefully." Abrams said.

"If we have to go back, we'll go back armed to the teeth. I can assure you of that." Moore replied. He turned to the rest of his team.

"Wrap it up! Lights out in thirty minutes."

* * *

The next day, the survey team weren't performing any surveys. The Foreman had indeed talked Ayako out of returning to the spot, but nearly at the cost of his job. They were to spend the next few weeks constructing the solar farm for the refugee town. The team wasn't needed for escort duties. That meant guard duty at Alnus or the City. Moore patrolled the streets of the refugee city, looking for any sign of trouble. This close to the base, there was bound to be little. At least that's what the MP's told him. He pressed the button on the shoulder-mounted radio unit he was loaned.

"Moore here. No sign of trouble around the bar and adjoining streets. Will continue patrolling, over." He said.

"HQ copies. Continue your patrol, Moore. We'll see you there later for drinks, right? Over." HQ replied.

"You got that right, Cohen, over."

"Keep patrolling, you'll be relieved in two hours, over."

"Understood. Out."

He released the button on his radio. During the construction process, Cohen, due to his experience, had been moved to the Command Center to assist with radio communications. The next two hours passed by rather uneventfully, save for people thanking him for the "Sun Farm" as it had been named. He returned to the MP precinct, returned their radio and headed straight for the bar. The rest of his team was already there. He sat with them.

"Sorry for starting without ya, Smoke. We got relieved earlier." Abrams said.

"It's fine.

"Here you are!" The waitress said, placing another tray, laden with mugs of beer on the table. Coughlin grabbed two, while the rest of the team, save for Santiago, grabbed one each.

"For the love of god, Coughlin! Haven't you had enough?" Santiago asked.

"This Japanese shit's weak! I love it!" He responded.

"How many has he had so far?" Moore asked.

"Six." Cohen replied.

"Last two, Coughlin." Moore said in a stern voice.

"You're no fun!"

"I'm not dragging your ass back to base. You're going to be able to walk."

"Fiiiiiiine. Last two."

Coughlin finished one of his mugs.

"Think we're gonna get real leave? Like maybe back to the real world for a bit?" He said.

"Maybe. Just don't count on it. We never got leave on our other jobs." Abrams replied.

"Eh, you're probably right. Any of you want the last drink?" He asked, motioning to the remaining mug of beer. They all shook their heads. Coughlin shrugged and downed half of it, took a breath and downed the rest.

"Let's get going." Moore said. The team got up from the table. They left the bar, went back to their vehicle, and left for the base.

* * *

The next morning, they were woken up and called to a meeting. There, they met the rest of the contingent sent by their company. The forces of the JSDF were attending this. They were told on the way that Lt. General Hazama was addressing them.

"I have called you here today to inform you of some dire news. Some of you may have heard that the current Emperor has fallen deathly ill. I am here to tell you that it is true. His son, Prince Zorzal has succeeded him. And as of now, has shut off access to Sadera. We are to secure our holdings and reinforce Italica. Along with that, our government has decided to upscale the presence of Bellerose International. As of now, they are being moved from just being an armed escort for the representative from Hashimoto Technologies to being an auxiliary security force. This change will occur over the next month, with an extra seventy-five contractors bolstering our forces. Twenty-five of them will be security, while the other fifty will be support contractors. Along with that, the contractors already here are having their contracts extended another three months."

"The fuck?!" Abrams said.

"I don't like the sound of this." Santiago said.

"Neither do I." Moore said.

Cohen stayed silent. The forces were dismissed. The team went to their quarters to discuss this.

"We're being upscaled. That means full kit. So we're getting more gear to lug around. Great." Abrams said. "And here I was happy with very little."

"Look at it this way Abrams; maybe we'll be able to make a difference here now. No more guarding that rep. Since the main government of the world doesn't want to talk to us anymore, we'll just stay around here." Cohen said.

"Yeah." He replied.

* * *

The next week went by with little trouble. The contractors were called to the JSDF armory.

"Your boss sent you all your gear. I ask that you unload it and get it where it needs to be." She said, pointing at multiple rows of metal crates.

"You got it." Moore said, his team taking their crates. When they got back to their quarters, they unloaded them. It wasn't standard kit. Slate gray combat uniforms, with their names in English and Japanese, rucksacks, ballistic helmets, throat mics with small wired earbuds, NVG's, and stab vests. A manila envelope was taped to the side of the crate. They removed it, opened it and found a note inside from Bellerose, printed with his personal stationary.

 _To Moore and team,_

 _The upscale must be a surprise to you, but don't worry. The Japanese Government is only worried about the new regime change. As of now, you are being put under Lt. General Hazama's command. Your designation will be "Strike One". Since the SFG isn't as large as it should be, you will assist the JSDF in missions of dire importance. This isn't the standard kit, but one that I put together in case we were heading back into the Special Region. Along with that, we have some experimental technology that a defense company is asking us to test for them. They didn't ask where it should go so I sent some of it your way, along with a few packages of batteries for them. It's in the green cases at the bottom of the crate. We signed a nondisclosure agreement so DON'T FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT! The combat uniform is flame retardant, just in case you run into something that spits fire. Good luck out there._

"Get this stuff packed up. We're not gonna need it yet." Moore said.

"How's about we take a look at some of this 'experimental tech' before we do that?" Coughlin said.

"May as well look at it now before we put it up." Cohen agreed.

"Fine. Let's open it." Moore said.

They opened the cases. Inside were five sets of goggles, akin to ballistic goggles, and wristbands and gloves. Along with that there were five handheld transceivers, much larger than any that Moore had seen before. Within the cases were small booklets. Moore picked one up and opened it and began reading aloud.

"Thank you for choosing Project Overlord. This experimental device is an all-in-one wayfinding, GPS, and tactical overlay system that has been in development since nineteen eighty-one. Please don the goggles and wristband and glove set and press and hold the button on the side of the emitter. It must be referring to the walkie-talkie."

They each took a set of goggles, wristbands, gloves and an "emitter". The goggles looked to have transition lenses as the sunny barracks had caused them to dim slightly. The wristbands weren't tight, but snug, with two buttons built into it reading "scan" and "connect". They each pressed the button on their emitters and something flashed on their goggles. It was a logo for Red River Defense Technologies. The logo went away and they were left with small green outlines around each of the team members, with their names appearing above the outlines. In the corners of the goggles, there were small vital sign indicators under their names. In the top left corner there was a small box with what looked to be a small map of the surrounding area. Below it were two options: connect and scan.

"The fuck?! Are you guys seeing this?!" Abrams shouted, Frantically looking around the room.

"This shit's epic!" Coughlin shouted.

"Fascinating." Santiago said.

"Hmm." Cohen said, adjusting his goggles.

"Alright, this is weird. Let me keep reading. From here, you will see that there are two options below the mini-map. Connect refers to the Overlord program's ability to connect to communication networks. It will allow for every operator to carry a powerful radio into battle. The system will be able to interface with all manner of communication technology, allowing for the soldier to keep in constant communication with sister emitters and radio networks. Scan refers to the emitter's ability to scan the surrounding area, up to forty feet, and make a simple map without the aid of a GPS satellite that will be saved within the emitter's internal memory. Along with that, scanning allows the operator to proverbially see through walls with our state-of-the-art sonar system. The sonar allows for the operator to see roughly thirty feet through obstructions. To access the sonar system, just press the button on the emitter, and it will send out a sonar pulse. The tactical overlay system allows for each operator to keep track of their ammunition, along with being able to tag threats for their comrades through the augmented reality of the goggles. The emitter is powered by batteries and solar power, along with an experimental kinetic energy generator. Effectively, the Overlord system allows for one-hundred continuous hours of operation on three nine-volt batteries. The wristband serves as a vitals monitor and as a way to access the Overlord Project's functions quickly."

"No wonder the thing's so bloody big." Abrams commented.

"That looks like everything we need to know about it. We just gotta use it and tell them how well it works when we're done here. Don't get too attached to it. If I think it jeopardizes our effectiveness I'll have us pack it all up and we'll go back to normal operations. Without fancy HUD's." Moore said.

The team stored their gear in their lockers and went to perform guard duty. The next day they were wearing their combat uniforms, and it came as a surprise to some people, mostly Ayako. She walked up to Moore while his team were speaking to some of the JSDF.

"So, you've been moved to a bigger role?" She asked.

"Yep. Something about a regime change in the Empire that they're being cautious about. We'll still guard the construction site for some time, but we're being moved to patrols and the like." Moore answered.

"Hmm. Well, I hope we meet again." She replied.

"Me too, Miss. Me too."


	5. Chapter 5: Under New Management

**A.N: And the next chapter's finally finished! I'll be trying to write longer chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It had been a few days after the announcement. The team were sitting in the "Common Room" of their barracks, if it could be called that. It was more of the biggest room that the security contractors of Bellerose, who were all assigned to the same barracks, had made into something of an actual common room. They'd made it somewhat more comfortable by requesting chairs, tables and the like. One of the contractors had even brought a set of large speakers with him, so they had access to music. The contractors who weren't out on patrol or performing guard duty were lounging here, as were some off-duty JSDF soldiers. Some were talking, while others played cards at one of the tables. CCR was playing just loud enough to not be drowned out by the conversation. Moore and his team were playing cards and talking about their current situation.

"I still can't believe our contract got extended. I'm gonna miss Mel's birthday. Again. Check." Moore said, sullenly.

Santiago gave him a dirty look as it went to his turn. "She's probably used to it by now. I'd guess that she cherishes the time with you between contracts. You aren't like Coughlin. Raise." He placed three-thousand yen in the pot.

"What's that supposed to mean, Santiago? Jus' cause I travel? I'm sure Moore's went somewhere with his daughter before. Check." He said.

"He's talking about all the bloody time you _spend_ travelling. Where'd you come from this time? Raise." Abrams replied, placing five-thousand yen in the pot.

"So what? Rome's pretty nice in December."

Cohen revealed the flop. A ten of spades, a ten of hearts, and a ten of diamonds. Moore checked, Santiago folded, Coughlin raised, placing another five-thousand yen in the pot. Abrams and Cohen both folded. Cohen revealed the turn. A four of diamonds. Moore had a look of dismay on his face by now, while Coughlin had a smirk on his.

"Luck finally run out? Raise." Coughlin placed ten-thousand yen in the pot.

"Check." Moore said.

Cohen revealed the river. An eight of diamonds. Coughlin revealed his cards. A full house.

"Can you beat that?" He asked Moore.

Moore wordlessly revealed his hand. His look of fear turning changing to a smirk. A four of spades and a seven of diamonds. Coughlin's smug grin turned to a look of shock. The table erupted in laughter.

"Moore wins." Cohen said, pushing the money toward him.

"You son of a bitch!" Abrams said through his laughter.

"Good job." Santiago said, patting Moore on the back.

"Fuckin' poker face." Coughlin said.

"I think this is the luckiest hand I've ever gotten." Moore replied.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer." Cohen added.

"So, we're being placed into active service. Think that Hazama's paranoid about that Zorzal guy? Bellerose wrote that the SFG aren't too populous around here. I'm beginning to think we might be sent on long missions." Abrams asked.

"Maybe. Aren't we used to that kind of stuff, though? How long did you spend in the SAS?" Santiago asked.

"Five years. If we ever get into any black-ops type shit, we'll be fine."

"What kind of black-ops type shit will we encounter _here_? I think the only _really_ dangerous thing to us is magic, and apparently there ain't a lot of people who can use it." Coughlin replied.

"What about dragons? Big beasts that want to kill us? According to Tomita, that dragon they blew the arm off of didn't even flinch at their HMG's." Santiago said.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Coughlin replied.

"You can't cross a bridge if you're dead."

"Itami and his friends killed one. It can't be too hard."

"He had over one-hundred pounds of C4. And almost everyone who went with him died."

"Touché."

"If we see one of those things, we'll run and find someplace where it can't get us. If that doesn't work, we'll call for support. If that doesn't work, we'll fight it. If that doesn't work, we're probably dead by then, so we probably won't be able care at that point." Moore said.

"Maybe you think that. I'll be chilling in purgatory." Coughlin replied.

"Don't get started. I have to go and check on some things anyway. I'll be back later." Moore said, standing up.

The rest of his team waved goodbye as he left. He left the barracks and looked around as he walked. The base had more than just humans in it now. He saw elves, cat people, and other Special Region races that he'd only seen doing patrols at the city, walking with JSDF soldiers.

 _The hell? Aren't civilians not allowed on base?_ He thought as he walked past some JSDF soldier talking to a cat woman. He quickened his pace, changing his destination to the Command Center.

"Can I speak to Lt. General Hazama? It's important." He asked the secretary.

"Lt. General Hazama is busy. If you like, you can speak to First Lieutenant Yanagida. He may be able to answer your questions." He replied.

"Fine. Where is he?"

"Go down that hallway." The secretary pointed to a hallway to his right. "He should be the third door on the left."

"Thanks."

Moore approached the door. Sure enough, the nameplate said First Lieutenant Yanagida. He knocked.

"Please come in."

Moore entered the room. The man sitting behind the desk had the name Yanagida on his uniform.

"Are you First Lieutenant Yanagida?" Moore asked.

"Yes." Yanagida answered. He started to get up to shake his hand, but winced and grabbed his side, slowly and carefully sitting back down. "My apologies if I don't shake your hand. I've only recently been released from the hospital."

 _What's one of the mercenaries doing here?_ He thought to himself.

"It's fine. Can we talk about something?" Moore asked. Yanagida motioned for him to take a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk.

Moore did so. The two looked at each other, sizing each other up. Yanagida was trying to guess what the mercenary was going to ask him about, while Moore hoped Yanagida had the answers he was looking for.

"Alright. I'll just get straight to the point. Why are there Special Region civilians walking around Alnus? I'm pretty sure on the way here I saw an elf driving a truck!" Moore asked.

"We're beginning to cooperate with the inhabitants more. They're assisting our forces as guides and interpreters, and we're supplying them with modern amenities and housing in the city. We're both gaining from this partnership." Yanagida explained.

"Working with the locals? I can see why that'd be a good idea. No way to set up satellites here, so no GPS. A language barrier, and little knowledge of flora and fauna. Is there any way I could sign my team up for this kind of thing? We'd like to know a bit more about the region. You know, safe edible plants and animals, the like. Anything to keep our packs light."

"We might be able to arrange something. There's a dark elf that's been requesting that we place her in the program. Would your team be willing to work with her?"

"Does she know the area well?"

"I'd say so. She's been a huntress for quite some time now, according to the rest of her tribe."

"Sure. Why not? We'll work with her."

"I'll let her know. Her name is Xian Em Dushi. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, you may leave. I just need your name."

"Nathan Moore. Strike One team leader."

"Okay, Mister Moore. I'll let her know."

"Alright. See you later."

Moore left Yanagida's office and headed back to the barracks to inform his team. On his way, he spoke to some of the civilians. Some of the ones who'd met him before were happy to see him working with them again. Maybe they'd get a chance to work with them. When he returned to the barracks, the team was within their quarters. Coughlin was toying with the Overlord, while Abrams, Santiago and Cohen were reading their booklets. They looked at him when he closed the door.

"Guys. I've got some news." The team looked at Moore. "I talked to some higher-up and got us some work. Not guard duty. We've got some civilian tagging along with us so behave yourselves when she's around. She's gonna teach us a bit about the land. Make us a bit more self-sufficient, hopefully make our packs lighter."

"Alright. Anything we should know?" Abrams asked.

"She's some kind of huntress. Probably knows about the land around here. Get your learning caps on when she's teaching." Moore replied.

"You got it." Santiago said.

"Yep." Abrams said.

"Gotcha." Coughlin said.

"When do you think that she'll meet us?" Cohen asked.

"No idea. We'll just have to wait." Moore replied. He lied down on his bunk. He was tired. Another sleepless night. "Wake me up if she shows. I'm tired as hell." He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, there was a knock at the door. Abrams answered it. Standing there was an Elf. Around the same height as Abrams, looking roughly in her late twenties, if you were to go by appearance alone. She had tan skin and silver hair. A longbow was slung over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows, along with a short sword, were fastened to her belt.

"I am Xian Em Dushi. Are you five the ones I seek?" Her voice reverberated through the hallway, drawing the attention of anyone within earshot. She was loud enough to wake up Moore, who shot up in his bunk, his hand on his pistol.

"I'd say so. Come on in." Abrams said, moving aside so she could enter. She sat down at the table, looking at the team. The team returned her gaze. Eventually, Moore spoke up.

"So, introductions are in order. I'm Nathan Moore. This is my team. Daniel Abrams, Rory Coughlin, Manuel Santiago, and Danila Cohen. I'm the acting leader. Pleased to meet you." He said, pointing to each of the contractors in turn.

"You do not look like the JSDF. Explain this." She replied.

"We're not with the JSDF. We're working for them. Technically, we're contractors." Abrams said. She cocked her head slightly in confusion.

"We're like mercenaries, but we're not pieces of trash who'll cut and run when things get hairy." Coughlin added. She looked to accept that answer.

"So, we'd like to get to know the land better. Learn about plants and animals that we can eat without getting sick and the like. We'll teach you anything you want to know in exchange. Sound good to you?" Moore asked.

"Well, since I asked to be a part of that 'Program' they talked about at the city, I guess I'll be fine working with you. All I ask is that you listen to all that I have to say. I don't like to repeat myself." She replied, a slight smirk on her lips.

"Good to hear." Moore said. He reached out his hand, which caused Xian to be taken aback, a look of shock on her face.

"Did I do something wrong?" Moore asked in confusion, looking at the other contractors.

"W-well, I'm not ready for that kind of commitment..." Xian replied, looking away from Moore, blushing.

"Commitment? I just wanted to shake your hand."

"You don't want to marry me? Why toy with me like that?" A look of surprise was on Xian's face.

"WHAT?!" The team said in near unison.

"T-that's what that means... It's a proposal for marriage."

This caused the other contractors to bust out laughing. Moore sat there, taking in the information. He quickly tried to rectify the situation, hoping to save some face.

"Oh! No no no no no no no! I don't want that! Shaking hands is something else in my world! Don't worry, I don't want to marry you!" He said, nearly stumbling over his words. Xian looked relieved at his explanation.

"I'm sorry. It makes sense you wouldn't know the customs well." She said.

"Smoke. Do that more often. It's too funny." Abrams said as he finally stopped laughing.

"Fuck off." Moore replied.

"Are we leaving or not?" Cohen asked.

"We are. You get my stuff ready. I'm gonna see about getting us a ride." Moore said. He got up, bid Xian and his team goodbye, and left for the motor pool.

* * *

Some time later, they were on the road. Coughlin had brought his small speaker with him and had plugged his phone into it, much to the group's dismay.

"Coughlin. Can we PLEASE listen to something else?!" Santiago asked.

"What? You don't like Maroon 5?" Coughlin replied.

"You know I fucking don't!"

"Too bad! Driver's choice!"

"Focus on the goddamn road!" Moore shouted.

Xian looked at Cohen with a look of confusion.

"What language is that? I've never heard it before." She asked.

"English. It's one of our world's languages." He replied.

"Hmm. How many languages do you have?"

"A lot. I think we have over three-thousand. Probably more."

Xian was astonished at that answer. She only knew of a few languages. Almost everyone spoke Imperial, so there was little reason to learn others.

"Where are we going?" She asked Moore.

"We're going a few miles outside of Italica. Find a forest. We'll spend a while there. You'll teach us about plants and the like. I'm really leaving this up to you more than anything. I don't know shit about this place." He explained.

"Well, I know the land surrounding Schwarz forest. It can't be too different." She said.

"Alright! We're putting ourselves in your care. Don't poison my boys, alright?"

"I'll try, Sir."

"Call me Moore, alright? I'm not that old yet." He smiled at her.

"Alright, Moore. I'll try not to poison you." She smiled back.

* * *

It took them quite some time, but they reached a remote enough forest to really start with the training. They parked the Humvee in a clearing and threw a camo net over it as a disguise. Cohen got on the radio and informed command of their position. After taking some time to get their gear ready, they made the disguised Humvee look as natural as they could before heading further into the forest. Every so often, they made a mark in the trees to keep them from getting lost. During the walk, if Xian saw an edible or medicinal plant, she would call them over and point it out, telling them all that she knew about it.

"This is a Rokude Pear. It's helpful in dealing with certain diseases. Mostly diseases infecting the chest." She explained, holding one of its fruit in her hand to show the team.

Santiago took out a notepad, pen and a digital camera. He took some notes on the medicinal plant and took a photo of it. They continued walking deeper into the forest.

"This is kinda nice." Abrams said.

"It's been a while since I could do this." Cohen added.

"You don't have forests where you come from?" Xian asked.

"I do, but I don't really have time to just relax like this." Cohen explained.

"So, those rifles... I remember hearing that every member of the JSDF has one. Did you get yours from them?" Xian asked.

"Nope. Made by a different country than Japan." Abrams answered.

"Japan?"

"The place the JSDF are from."

"Oh. Well, I've heard that the JSDF haven't lost a single warrior in their campaign here. Even when they fought the fire dragon. Are they elite warriors?"

"Not at all. They're not even close. Most of the ones you see are the equivalent of foot soldiers in one of your armies. They're good, but they're not elite. They've got elite soldiers, but you don't see them." Coughlin interjected.

"But they've killed hundreds of thousands of the Empire's troops! Without even a single loss on their side!"

"That's the Empire's fault. Shouldn't group up like that."

"Well, what's considered elite in your world?"

"People like me." Coughlin said, pointing at himself. "A lot of the people in our company come from 'Elite' backgrounds. Our skills serve us well in this profession. Some of us make even more money than the elite warriors that fight for a country. Some of us confuse me though. Santiago's a good example. He was someone who'd go in and save elite warriors in the middle of battles. Sometimes while the battles were still going on. I don't know why he didn't become a doctor or something after he left. Can't remember its name though. What was their motto, Santiago? I think you told me at some point."

"These things we do, that others may live." Santiago said.

"I've never heard of a healer doing that. How do you keep them safe in that kind of battle?"

"Like I said. We didn't get our rifles from Japan. Every army has weapons like ours. It really evened out warfare, but also made it less of a traditional war than people like yourselves would be used to. You shoot at us, we'll shoot back and protect our own."

"All your world's soldiers have those? That's frightening."

"We have more than we'd ever need. They get bigger. We've got guns that can tear a man in half."

"It sounds like there's more war there than here. How haven't you destroyed yourselves yet?"

"I ask myself that from time to time. I think we all know what would happen if we decided to have another planet-scale war. We've got these things called 'Nukes' and 'Mutually Assured Destruction'. They ensure that we don't try to have too big of a war. We make big weapons to keep other people from using their big weapons. When you think about it like me, it seems kind of silly and you wonder what it'll be like when people figure out that they can get along just fine without those things as insurance."

"I'm more surprised you can be this deep, Coughlin." Abrams said.

"All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking." Coughlin replied.

The team stopped. Xian was confused as to why they stopped. The team looked at Coughlin with surprised looks.

"I'm surprised you're smart enough to quote Nietzsche." Abrams said, dumbfounded.

"Smart enough to get into the SAS. Just cause I like busting down doors and smashing faces don't mean I can't be smart from time to time." Coughlin replied.

"Ess-ay-ess?" Xian asked.

"The elite warriors from me and Abrams' countries. They focus on saving people from evil." Coughlin explained.

The group reached a small pond. There they stopped to rest. Moore, Xian and Santiago sat down near the shore, while Cohen, Coughlin and Abrams stood around and talked. Xian looked at Moore.

"Tell me more about your world." She said.

"You're really interested in it, aren't you?" He replied.

"Yes. You did say you'd teach me if I taught you. Now teach me about your world."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Hmm... What's your country like? You don't look like Cohen or Santiago."

"Santiago and I come from the same country. It's called America. It's not amazing there, but it's better than most countries. Me and Santiago were a part of their armies. Compared to some places, we're pretty damn free to do what we want, within reason."

"What's Japan like compared to America?"

"Technology wise, they surpass us by years. Other than that, they've got a lot of internal problems. Population decline, pollution, and the like. To me, the JSDF were pretty happy to finally get to see some real action. Our country's armies have been seeing action almost nonstop for the last thirty years."

"But aren't they an army like America's? I thought they'd be in wars."

"America protects Japan from other countries. The JSDF protect the country itself. A long time ago, they followed the wrong person into a war they couldn't win. Then they made a bigger mistake and decided to mess with me and Santiago's country. It cost them dearly. They're not allowed to have a real army anymore. Wars are only fought when there's not any other option in my world. Some parts of my world are like yours, they see war as another part of life. Cohen's from a place like that. His people have been attacked ever since they started existing."

"Is that why he seems so distant? You can hear it in his voice. He's not as lively as the rest of you."

"I'd say so. Where he lives, war is normal. Fighting for the very survival of your home is normal. Having almost every surrounding country wishing for your death is normal. It's not the same for the rest of us. If you compare us all, Cohen's the unluckiest."

Xian looked away, stopping the conversation. The team finished their rest and continued to explore the forest. They learned more about flora and fauna, as well as poisonous plants that are similar in appearance. They were on their way back to the Humvee when they heard it. The beating of wings. Large wings. Moore looked up and saw a small silhouette around one-hundred or so feet in the air.

"Do you hear that?" He asked.

"Dragon wings. Too small to be a greater dragon." Xian answered.

"They common around here?"

"No. Small dragons like that are usually bred for Imperial dragon riders."

"Keep low and don't let them see you." Moore announced to the team. They did as he said.

The group crept through the forest until they were close to the Humvee. From the brush, they could see it. Moore motioned them over.

"No tree cover. We'll have to move around and get as close as we can. From there, we'll yank the net off and gun it. I don't care if we leave the net. I'd rather we all get out of here without injuries. If we're spotted and they attack, aim for the rider. I don't know if our bullets can pierce the dragon's scales. When the rider goes down, aim for the dragon's wings. How well does that work, Xian? I've never fought a dragon before." Moore said.

"It might work. The dragons that dragon riders ride are of a lesser breed." Xian replied.

"Good to hear. Cohen, Coughlin, Santiago. Get to the car and get it ready. Me, Abrams and Xian will provide covering fire if we're spotted."

Xian readied her bow and began warming it up, pulling the bowstring to prepare it for battle. The team checked their weapons. Abrams adjusted his scope. Coughlin flipped the safety off his rifle. They moved through the brush until they were very close to the Humvee. Abrams gauged the distance in his head.

 _Probably about twenty metres. Gonna have to run fast._ He thought.

"On the count of three." Moore said.

The group got themselves ready.

"One."

Abrams gripped the foregrip of his rifle. Santiago flipped his rifle to "Automatic". Xian nocked an arrow.

"Two."

Coughlin and Cohen prayed under their breath.

"Three!"

The group burst from the forest in a mad dash toward the Humvee. Abrams and Coughlin were the first to reach. Coughlin began pulling the net off while Abrams swept the area. Santiago and Cohen were second, assisting Coughlin in removing the net. Moore and Xian reached the car last. When they reached it, the rider had spotted them. He saw the Humvee as they were pulling the net off.

 _That iron chariot! They must be Japanese spies!_

He dived toward them. The team opened fire. As Moore expected, the bullets didn't even penetrate the dragon's scales. The rider's breastplate wasn't as strong though. Abrams' shots tore through the man. With his last bit of strength, he fired his crossbow at the Japanese dog. He went slack and slipped off the dragon, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. The dragon veered upwards and into the sky once more.

"Stay alert! It might come back!" Moore shouted.

"Fuck! I'm hit!" Abrams shouted back.

Moore turned his head and saw Abrams slumped against the rear bumper of the Humvee, clutching his leg. He was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

"Medic!" Moore shouted.

Santiago arrived and quickly took control of the situation.

"Xian! Moore! I'll try to stop the bleeding! Help me get him in the back when I'm done!" He shouted. He knelt down next to him, moved Abrams' hands away and assessed the damage.

 _Pulsating blood. Might have hit an artery. Gotta stop the bleeding._

"Where's your IFAK?" He asked Abrams.

"Right side, on my vest." Abrams replied, pointing to it.

He removed it from Abrams' vest and placed the pack on the ground. He rummaged through it, finding a tourniquet. He secured it above the wound and tightened as much as he could without the windlass. He then twisted the windlass until he couldn't twist it anymore. He secured it, checked his watch and wrote the time he had secured it on the tourniquet tag. The wound had stopped pulsating blood. He patted him on the shoulder. Moore and Santiago hoisted him up and got him into the back, laying him down in the bed of the Humvee.

"You're gonna be fine!" Santiago said as he entered. He pulled off his now soiled tactical gloves and replaced them with a set of clean nitrile gloves. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small white package. He opened it and revealed a small plastic stick. He offered it to Abrams.

"Put it in your mouth. It'll help with the pain." He said.

"I fuckin' know what it does." Abrams said angrily, taking it from him and doing what Santiago told him.

"Leave it in. I'll know when you've had enough." He said, setting up to finish his operation.

"He'll be alright?" Moore asked.

"I hope. I stopped the bleeding, but I'll have to take the tourniquet off at some point. Step on it! We gotta get to Italica now!" Santiago replied.

"Cohen! Get on the radio and inform HQ! Contact and one casualty." Moore ordered.

"HQ, this is Strike One. We encountered a hostile Imperial dragon rider. We neutralized the threat but sustained a casualty. Requesting medevac outside Italica, over."

"Strike One, this is HQ. Request acknowledged. Medevac is on it's way, over."

The time on the way to the evac zone was spent in silence.

* * *

When they reached Italica, the medevac helicopter was indeed there. When the Humvee stopped, the medical personnel took Abrams from them, with Santiago telling them everything he knew about the injury as quickly and clearly as he could. They loaded him into the back and sped off toward Alnus. Santiago slumped against the Humvee. The trousers of his uniform were considerably filthier, soiled by bloody dirt below the knee.

"Might have hit an artery. They better hurry. I'll be pissed if they let him die." Santiago said.

They drove into Italica. There, they were able to get their vehicle refueled and the back cleaned. By the time they reached Alnus, it was dark. They returned the Humvee and went straight to the Hospital.

"Let us see him! He isn't dead, is he?" Moore said.

"It's not that, but it's quite late. He's asleep. We ask that you come back tomorrow." The nurse said.

"Bullshit! I'm fucking fine!" A voice echoed down the hall. The team turned to see Abrams walking toward them, wearing a hospital gown and walking with crutches. He had a smile on his face. The nurse quickly got up from her desk and quickly walked toward Abrams.

"Sir! Get back to your room! Why are you awake at this hour?!" She asked.

"Fuckin' thirsty. Hey guys! I'm fine. Look! They got the bolt out!" He said, pointing to his right leg.

"Sir! You can't be walking on that leg!"

"Bullshit! I feel fine!"

"That's the morphine, Abrams! Get back to your room!" Santiago said, walking toward him at a brisk pace.

"Santiago, I'm fine. Let's talk a bit." Abrams responded. The nurse took one of Abrams' arms while Santiago took the other.

"Ya'll go on. I'll catch up." Santiago called as the two escorted Abrams back to his room.

"Let's go. We'll talk to him in the morning." Moore ordered. The group left the hospital and made their way back to their quarters. They were quite tired when they reached it, so they offered to let Xian crash in Abrams' bunk. She accepted, since it'd be a long walk back to the city.

"He got shot by a bolt from a crossbow. Most likely a bodkin. How is he walking around? How does he still have his leg?" Xian asked.

"Medical science, girl! That's why he was walking around. That and Abrams is fuckin' tough. It's happened before." Coughlin explained.

"Is this a story?" Moore asked.

"Fuck yeah it is! Alright, so these dumbass terrorists tried to pull some shit in Swindon, right? Whole fuckin' shitshow for em'. They took a shitton of hostages and shit, right? Whole nine yards. Shouting 'Allahu ackbar' and all that. Firing out the windows. We get there in the middle of the negotiations, and we blast the fuckin' door off the hinges. See, these fucks barely knew how to shoot their guns, I think they had some shitty submachine guns. Shot 9mm, I remember that. So they let loose on the doorway and me and Abrams and McCullen bust through the window! Shot three of the fucks before the last one turned around and clipped Abrams' in the fuckin' shoulder! He shot his ass dead for that. When Abrams gets taken to the hospital, they find his ass walking around looking for a vending machine, said he felt fine!"

"Probably the morphine." Moore said.

"It fuckin' was! The man feels right as rain on that shit. Fought tooth and nail for that Mars, though. Let him have it if he went back to his room."

"Did he relent?"

"Yep. He really wanted that Mars. Said he earned it."

"That man's luck is going to run out one day. I hope it's not soon." Cohen said, turning over in his bunk to face the wall.

"Don't fuckin' jinx it, alright, Cohen?" Coughlin said, putting earplugs in.

Moore turned off the light, got into his bunk and tried to get some sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Going Places

**A.N: I'm back! This took some time to get out, due to finals rearing their ugly head. I'm still at it and I don't plan to stop anytime soon! Blueway, thank you for the inspiration! You know what I'm talking about. Once again, criticism is appreciated! Also, if you have any questions, feel free to ask them in a review, or simply PM me, and I'll answer it to the best of my abilities!**

* * *

 **Classified Location, 2015**

Moore fast-roped from the Blackhawk. His team quickly followed. They readied their weapons and moved through the slum, their only illumination being their flashlights and the setting sun. Occasionally a head would peek out, but they would notice the way that the men were dressed, with their american combat uniforms and wielding their M4 Carbines. This caused them to quickly make themselves scarce, as if knowing that trouble was about to rear its ugly head again. The team moved fast and they reached their destination quickly. The building blended in with the rest, and the area around it was just as deserted as the rest of the streets they had passed through, being two stories, the upper floor had a balcony. There was a man standing guard there, his face covered by a keffiyeh and armed with an AK derivative of some kind, scanning for targets. Moore lined up the shot and fired, the bullet piercing his heart and subsequently pulping it. The only noise heard was the suppressed gunshot. He fell backward and out of sight. The team advanced and stacked up on the door, with three men on each side. One of the other men set a breaching charge upon it. After doing so, he got back in line and lit the charge. The door was blown inward off its hinges. Shouts in Pashto rang out from inside the structure, with them quickly silenced by Moore and one his teammates.

Moore took point, being the first to enter the building. The aftermath was apparent. Two men, also armed with AKs, were lying dead. One was slumped against the wall, and the other looking as though he was shot while he was getting up from the table. One more was crushed under the door, killed or knocked unconscious by the force of it being blown off its hinges. A shot to the head from Moore made sure that he was the former. The team climbed the stairs, reaching a locked door. They heard more shouting in Pashto on the other side. Rifles being chambered. One of them slipped a flashbang from a pouch on his vest, and pointed at it. Moore nodded in approval. Another, armed with a sledgehammer, knocked the door inward, allowing him to lob the grenade in. The flashbang went off, and the team quickly entered the room, with Moore taking point once more. He quickly observed his surroundings, seeing three armed men clutching their eyes and recoiling in pain. The room was filled with ordinance, in crates or just simply lying about the room. Moore fired at one of them, shooting him in the chest. Two of his comrades quickly neutralized the remaining two.

 _No sign of the package._ Moore thought.

"Fan out and search for the package." Moore whispered.

"Yes, sir." The others replied, doing as he commanded.

"Sir. Found a doorway. Leads to a hallway." One of them said. He moved a piece of sheet metal from its spot on the wall.

"Ramirez. You and me." Moore replied.

Moore and Ramirez made their way to the room at the end, seeing that it had no door. They entered and checked their corners. Moore saw more boxes of munitions, and someone standing with his back to them. Next to the boxes of munitions stood the package, a bundle of pressurized gas tanks, which command told them held nerve gas meant for Jerusalem. He turned to face Moore. The boy was young, probably no older than sixteen. He was clutching an AK, fear present in his eyes. Time slowed to a crawl. He began to point it at Moore.

Moore fired.

* * *

Moore awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up in his bunk and looked around the room. Coughlin, Santiago, and Cohen were still asleep. Xian, on the other hand, was not. She was sitting on her bunk, looking at Moore. She crept over to Moore, trying to make a little noise as she could. She sat down on the edge of his bed, placing a hand on his leg.

"You were tossing and turning like someone was trying to throttle you." Xian said.

"Happens." Moore replied, getting up from his bunk and going over to his locker. He rummaged through and found what he was looking for. He took the bottle of pills out of its bag, popped the cap and shook two of the capsules into his hand. He replaced the cap and returned the bottle to his locker. He left the room, with Xian following him.

"What are those?" She asked.

"Pills. They're medicine, like those herbs you showed us."

"What do they do?"

"They help me sleep."

"Do you really need them?"

"Do you have to keep asking me questions? Can't they wait until morning?" He said, agitated.

Xian was caught off guard by his tone. But she didn't relent. She stepped between him and the door leading to the common room.

"Tell me what's going on. You weren't like this yesterday." She said, sternly.

"How about I don't, you can get out of my way, and we can get back to getting some sleep." He replied in an annoyed tone.

"That's not going to happen. Tell me what's wrong."

Moore glared at her. A moment later, his expression and posture softened. He let out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. You win. Lemme get some water and we'll talk. If I try to take these without water they'll probably burn a hole in my throat."

The two were sitting in the common room, Xian sat across from Moore, who had gotten his glass of water. The two looked at each other for a few moments before Moore broke the silence.

"So? What did you want to know?" He asked.

"I've never seen someone thrash like that in their sleep before. I'd like to know why. You said you'd answer any question I asked, so I'm going to hold you to it." Xian answered.

Moore hesitated before answering. He didn't know how to explain to someone so... primitive. He didn't even know if she would understand. He just wanted to get back to bed though, so he'd humor her for now.

"I had a nightmare. A real real bad nightmare. It happens from time to time, and I usually take some of these pills to help deal with them. I have trouble getting back to sleep after one." He explained.

The conversation grinded to a halt. Xian avoided Moores gaze. He broke the silence.

"You ever regret something? You elves are supposedly long-lived, so you must at least have one."

"I do."

"These nightmares remind me of things I wish I never did. Things I think'll haunt me the rest of my life."

"Is it common for warriors from your world?"

"It depends. Not everyone in my line of work has this problem. It's probably around here, too. You've probably got a different name for it though."

Xian looked at him quizzically. Moore rolled his eyes, resting his elbows on the table.

"Remember when the fire dragon attacked your people? I'd say that at least a few of them are going through this. They just don't know how to deal with it."

Xian remembered back to the time before her tribe journeyed to Alnus. She remembered some of her people being like Moore. Waking up terrified, constantly being on alert, with some in such deep pits of despair, that they went so far as to simply go and throw themselves at the dragon's feet, which ensured their death.

"I saw it, yes. How I didn't succumb to the same despair that they felt, I'll never know. I spent weeks scrounging for food and water, always watchful for the dragon. It was... horrible. I don't ever want to go through that again. That's why I migrated with my tribe here. It's safe."

"Then you'd know why I don't like talking about it. Let's just let it lie for now, and I might talk more over a beer, or ten."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Nathan."

* * *

When morning had come, they indeed went to visit Abrams. When he saw them enter his room, a smile formed on his lips and he waved at them from his hospital bed.

"Hey man. How's the leg?" Coughlin greeted.

"Well, it's still gone. That fucking grenade in Afghanistan saw to that." Abrams replied jokingly.

"Fuckhead." Coughlin slapped Abrams upside the head. "I mean the one that got arrowed."

"Bolted." Moore corrected.

"Shot with a bodkin from a crossbow." Santiago said, correcting the correction.

"Did you say he was missing a leg?" Xian asked.

"Yeah." Coughlin answered. "Danny boy! Show her."

Abrams lifted the covers. Xian moved closer to see. There was his right leg, the thigh wrapped in bandages. His left leg on the other hand, was missing below the knee, a smooth stump was all that was left. Xian screamed and recoiled in shock, knocking into Coughlin, who held her still.

"Ow! Scream fuckin' louder, will ya?!" Abrams said, clutching his left ear.

"H-how?! You had a left leg and now you don't! I saw it! I saw you walking on it! It wasn't the one that got shot!" Xian said, fear present in her voice.

"I've got a prosthetic. A fake leg."

Abrams reached down near the other side of the hospital bed. He pulled the bottom half of a leg into Xians view. She gasped in shock, covering her mouth. She moved closer to get a better look. It didn't match Abrams skin tone at all, as it had a metallic shine to it, but to Xian, it looked incredibly close to a human leg. The differences were in its design. It was made of metal, that she could see, and it was sturdy in its construction, with pneumatic mechanisms in the joint where the foot, ankle, and shin would meet.

"Your people can..." Xian started.

"C-can I hold it?"

"Sure." Abrams replied.

He passed it to her. She held it, surprised by its light weight. She turned it around in her hands, looking at it from multiple angles. She touched the foot, moving it up and down, left and right. It moved effortlessly, a slight whir audible as the joint moved. After she was finished looking at it, she passed it back to Abrams.

"How?" Xian asked.

"Science." Santiago answered. "A man by the name of Dean Kamen was able to revolutionize prosthetic technology."

"Amazing." Xian said.

Coughlin sat down in the chair closest to Abrams. Santiago took the one nearest the door, while Cohen offered his to Xian, who accepted. Moore didn't sit in a chair, he stood.

"Not gonna get to leave for at least a month. That's what the doc told me. Tore open my stitches on the way back to the room, Too." He explained. Patting the leg in question.

"I'm not glad to hear that, but don't push yourself. I want you to be in top shape." Moore replied.

"Got it, Smoke." Abrams said, jokingly giving Moore a salute. Moore returned it.

The group stayed for a little over an hour, playing cards and chatting, with Xian asking Abrams and Santiago about these "prosthetics". When they left the hospital, they headed to the mess hall. Moore didn't join them, though. When they met an intersection, he went a different way.

"Oi! Where're you goin'?" Coughlin asked.

"Gotta talk to someone. I'll catch up." He replied.

Before they could question him further, he jogged out of earshot. He made his way to the command offices. He pushed the door open and walked over to the secretary.

"Any higher-ups not in a meeting? How about Yanagida?" He asked. His bluntness surprised the woman, but she composed herself.

"Lieutenant Yanagida is available." She replied.

Moore didn't wait for her to let him through, though. He simply marched to his office and opened the door without knocking. Yanagida was indeed there, but instead of the crutches he had when they spoke last, he was in a wheelchair.

"Good morning, Mister Moore."

"Why was our contract extended?" Moore asked, taking a seat.

"You know exactly why. The regime change has put us on edge." Yanagida answered.

"I don't think that answers my question."

"Your company has a substantial amount of former special forces in their security division, do they not?"

"Yeah. That's why I signed up with them."

Yanagida maneuvered his wheelchair over to a file cabinet and Moore watched as he drew something from one of the drawers, and returned to the desk and placed multiple manila folders on it.

He opened each of them. They were Bellerose dossiers about contractors. The first five he pointed out were him and his team.

"Nathan Moore. Thirty-eight. Blood type AB-plus, born in Los Angeles, California. Spent fifteen years in the Marine Corps, five in MARSOC. You were honorably discharged, and not even a year after being discharged, joined Bellerose International. You've been with them for five years now."

He began reading through the list of security contractors.

"Special Air Service, Sayeret Matkal, fucking Alpha Group? The list goes on. Bellerose doesn't discriminate when it comes to soldiers, does he?"

"I wouldn't say so. He chooses who he thinks meet or exceed his standards. I had to meet a lot of requirements. Hell, I barely got in. The only reason I'm _here_ is because I'm good at my job. There's a lot of people that I think would be better, but he chose me for this. Anyone can try to get in, but if they don't make it, it's because Bellerose didn't see them as good enough. A lot of people don't make it in because of the psych exam. Don't know why, though. I passed that with flying colors."

"Apparently, roughly forty-five percent of the applicants to Bellerose Internationals' security division either don't meet his prerequisites or simply drop out of the selection process. You had to sign a waiver, did you not?"

"I did."

"You, your team, and your entire division are rather useful to us. We are afraid that we stand on the precipice of this war going from cold to hot."

"So you're afraid of a hot war?"

 _I don't like the sound of this._ Moore thought.

"You'll most likely be doing much more than simple peacekeeping. If this regime change proves to be for the worse, you may be assisting our ground forces."

"I'm pretty sure that violates the geneva convention."

"You're expected to retaliate if provoked. Without a doubt, the Imperial Army will provoke you. You must understand this. We know that you understand ROE, so we expect you to act in accordance."

Yanagida smirked. Moore rubbed his temples. A moment later, he let out a defeated sigh.

"Goddamnit. I'll let my team know."

"Keep in mind that we believe this Zorzal fellow to be quite dangerous, or at least dangerously ignorant, from testimonials from our soldiers who have had the... pleasure of meeting him. You will be assisting in what is most likely the first completely beneficial conquest in the last one-hundred years."

"We were told we'd be assisting you in 'missions of dire importance'. I'd like an explanation."

Yanagida's eyes widened.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Nunya."

"Well, yes." Yanagida adjusted his collar. "You'll be assisting us in missions of dire importance. It means what it sounds like. If we see it as strategically important, we may deploy Strike One through Three along with JSDF forces, if we see it as necessary. Your team is an invaluable asset to us."

"I'm getting what you mean now. Why do you need us for that? Don't you have the SFG for that kind of stuff? At least that way if you get caught you won't get called out for it. Well, you'd still get called out, but at least you wouldn't get yourself in extra trouble."

"We recently had a... situation that resulted in a disastrous loss to the SFG. Those that weren't killed in action were severely wounded, and won't be able to operate for some time. You will be temporarily bolstering their forces for now. Your director signed a nondisclosure agreement. Until we let another UN nation past the gate, you can't talk about what you see here. I trust that you won't tell anyone this?"

"Shoot."

"We had international and domestic criminal organizations try to kidnap the Special Region ambassadors. You watched the Diet, right?"

"Someone tried to kidnap the axe-wielding psycho? I bet it didn't end well for them."

"Well, they ambushed our forces. The only reason the ambassadors and their bodyguards were able to escape was that a team of CIA field agents engaged the criminals and covered their escape. That and Miss Mercury's... talents. Sadly, the agents were sent in without our permission. Apparently, they had been sent as a peace offering by President Dirrel. Without our knowing. We are glad to know that President Dirrel wishes for the safety of the inhabitants of the Special Region when they travel outside their world, but this has put a rift between our two countries. That and the Arab Lockdown makes it hard for the U.S. to get involved with our operations here. As far as I know, that's why we hired your company. Your company is very ethical and very elite, if I had to describe it from what I've learned about them."

"I get it, but I don't like it. I expect that you take good care of my men in return. Abrams better be fine soon."

"I can't perform miracles, Nathan."

"I get it. Just treat him well for me, alright?"

"We can do that."

The two shook hands, then Moore stood up and left.

* * *

He'd been gone for a few hours when he returned to his room. The team were sat around their table, and were trying to teach Xian Texas Hold Em'. When the door opened, they all turned to see who it was.

"Where ya been, Smoke? The fuck happened to 'I'll be right back'?" Coughlin asked.

"I wasn't that hungry, so I went to the Gym afterward."

"Could have told us."

"You looked pretty busy."

"She still can't get past the flop."

"It's harder than you think!" Xian retorted.

"We'll pick this up later." Santiago said. He took the cards and shuffled them back into the deck, and placed a rubber band around the deck.

"Your hands hurt?" Santiago asked. He saw how Moore was clutching his knuckles.

"I hit the bag too hard." Moore countered.

"Yeah." Santiago replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

 _Something's eating you, Moore. You're not good at hiding it._ He thought, returning to his cards.

"Got some news. You're gonna want to stay seated."

Moore sat down on his bunk. He looked into the eyes of his comrades. His team. He breathed in deeply, trying his best to explain the news to them. He sighed.

 _Just go for it._

"We're probably going to get sent on combat missions."

"What?!" Santiago said. He slammed his cards on the table.

"What?" Xian asked.

"Xian, you're not going. I mean us. As in the non Special Region-ites." Moore answered.

"Fuckin' hell." Coughlin said.

"They have our records. Our personnel are probably the most experienced people on base."

"Fucking hell, man!"

Coughlin shook his head. Santiago rested his arms on the table, rubbing his temples.

"For now, we'll take the high road. I don't like that they're being reckless, but if things go how they think, there might be a hot war. If the enemy charges you with the intent to kill, I expect you to shoot back. **Only** in that circumstance. Don't fire if they retreat, and don't fire if they don't attack you." Moore explained.

"Xian, you're not to tell anyone about this. Understood?" Cohen asked.

Xian nodded.

"What'll they do when the rest of the world comes in here? We'll get questioned." Santiago asked.

"No idea. Just don't piss em' off for now. We'll keep up the niceties until our contract is up, and we'll go our merry way. If they ask if we did anything sketchy, just tell them no. It's what we did in Liberia. If it worked on the UN investigator that questioned us, it'll work on others." Moore answered.

The group looked amongst themselves and nodded to each other in agreement.

* * *

The team looked out across the landscape. It passed by under their feet. Here and there, they saw a settlement or a blackened patch of land. The flame dragon apparently did them, according to Xian, who was securely fastened to the one of the seats of the Blackhawk, and was gripping hard on the edges of her seat. The blackhawk had the symbol of Bellerose International emblazoned on its doors: a blooming rose, flanked on both sides by olive branches.

"How you holding up, Miss?" One of the door gunners shouted over the engines.

"J-just fine! I-" She yelped, closed her eyes, and gripped the seat tighter as some turbulence shook the helicopter. Her ears weren't designed for the headphones she was given, and they partially stuck out, much to the teams amusement.

"You'll be fine! I do this all the time! Cept I'm used to flying low and fast!" The pilot said.

"Focus on flying!" Santiago shouted.

"We're almost there! We'll be in Italica in a bit!" He replied.

"W-why did you take me with you?!" Xian asked, a nervous tremble in her voice.

"You really don't want to be stuck in Alnus, do you? We cleared it with the brass, so you don't have to worry!" Coughlin said.

"You're most likely going to end up in a chopper while we're still here, so you'd best get over your fear of flying." Moore added.

"It's not that easy! I've never been th-this high up before!" She retorted.

"You'll be fine. I was nervous the first time I got in a chopper. You get used to it."

Moore patted her on the back and gave her a reassuring look. She smiled back. Her grip on the seat loosened. Cohen opened one of the doors and scanned the horizon. They could see Italica from their vantage point. The east gate was still in a manner of disrepair, but they saw laborers milling about, hard at work in the repair effort. Some of the laborers looked at them and pointed. Cohen closed the door again.

"We're supposed to meet the countess here. The brass want to speak to her. We're supposed to transport her to Alnus." Moore explained.

"Anything else?" Cohen asked.

"Need to know basis."

"Fuckin' hell." Coughlin added, shaking his head.

"Xian. You stay in the bird. Make friends with the crew. They're our go-to pilots. Shut the door behind us." Moore ordered.

Xian nodded in response.

"Alright people! Game faces!" Moore ordered.

The group waited for the chopper to land. When it did, they looked at each other and pulled up their faceguards. Aside from their reputation as "sun harvesters", the Bellerose combat uniform helped keep the seedier members of Special Region society at bay. Compared to the uniform of the JSDF, their uniform was more modern. The uniform was special order from Platatac, a fire retardant variant of the D3 combat uniform. Cohen opened the door and they stepped out of the chopper, looking at the crowd that had formed. They were mostly made up of former bandits and surviving civilians from the Italica Siege. The former bandits eyed the contractors nervously. The citizens knew that they were with the JSDF, and weren't bothered by their presence, giving them a nod of approval. The group did what Moore told them. Hard looks and threatening postures. They walked single file, with Moore at the lead. The crowd parted to let them pass. The crowd didn't last long though, as a foreman ordered them back to work. The group walked through the entrance of the east gate. The JSDF had assisted in the cleanup efforts, but the team could tell even now that a battle took place here. The wall was pock-marked with bullet holes, and there were scorch marks, quite obviously from explosives. They walked through the streets, passing a street vendor selling charms of Emloy. They stopped to hear the hawker's spiel. He looked to be in more elegant clothing than that of the common folk, and was standing atop a crate.

"The apostle, Rory Mercury, fought alongside these noble warriors, who smote the bandit hordes with their impeccable might! These brave, selfless heroes from beyond the gate are our saviors! We must show them and Emloy our gratitude for allowing such great and valorous warriors into our world! Come and partake of my wares so that they will look upon us and approve of our piety!" He shouted.

The team took a closer look at the stand. The stand's wares were bullet casings. Hundreds upon hundreds of spent bullet casings of varying size, from the 7.62 that was in their rifles, to the 12.7 mm used by the JSDFs HMGs. The group looked at each other before the hawker's voice drew their attention once more.

"You! Sun Harvesters! The ones who brought with them the power to capture the sun itself! You accompanied the JSDF! You must know of their power, their might, their unwavering nobility! Please, regale us with tales of their heroism, their-" He said, pointing his cane at the them.

"Got nothin' to say. We're just here on business." Moore cut him off.

"You're on business, you say? Well, please take a look at our charms. Tell us if they are up to snuff!" The hawker retorted. He straightened his coat and looked at the crowd smugly.

Moore turned to his teammates.

"Alright, I don't like this guy. Let's make sure the Japanese know about this." Moore said. He made sure to speak in English.

"Think we can lower his stock? We've got some yen on us. How much do we have altogether?" Cohen asked.

The group fished around in their pockets, seeing how much they had altogether. When they counted it up, they had roughly twenty-thousand yen.

"Not much. Anyone got ideas?" Moore asked.

"I got a sack of dragon scales from one of the engineers. They got drafted to help with the cleaning efforts. They nicked a bunch." Coughlin answered.

"They worth a lot?"

"Around here, yeah."

"Give him the whole bag."

"Fuckin' really?! Can't I keep one?!"

"Fine, Coughlin. You get one."

Coughlin rummaged around in his backpack for a moment before removing a canvas sack. He walked through the crowd and dropped the sack on the Hawker's counter.

"We got thirty-five dragon scales here. We'll take all of these charms. Keep the change." Coughlin said.

The hawker started trembling at Coughlin's words. He stumbled over his words for a moment before regaining his composure.

"W-well! I would call that a fair trade!"

"We've got a flying machine just outside the east gates. Send em' all there."

"As you wish!"

The group fell back in formation and continued walking to the manor in silence. Along the way, they saw that a great deal of the citizens had some kind of "charm", whether it be a bullet casing, multiple pieces of disintegrating ammo belts strung together into necklaces or bracelets, Cohen even saw a bipod, bent at an angle, hanging inside a window. It looked to belong to a JSDF rifle. When they reached the manor, they were let in by some of the staff. The maid who greeted them wasn't human, though. If Moore had to say, she was rather young, with bright red hair that at cursory glance, looked like dreadlocks. At least he thought it was hair at first. It took him a moment to notice that it was moving. And that each strand had eyes and fangs. And that one of the strands was looking right at him.

"Greetings! My name's Aurea! If I may ask, what are you here for?" Aurea asked. She was rather cheerful, and it caught the team off guard. Cohen refused to meet her gaze, while Coughlin couldn't stop staring. Santiago began trembling.

"Uhh... Hello Aurea. I'm Nathan Moore. I'm here to speak with the Countess on behalf of the JSDF."

"Oh! Please follow me."

The maid led them to the foyer. It was what they expected. Extravagant and lofty. She motioned for them to sit down in one of the chairs, which Cohen and Santiago obliged.

"Kind sirs, please wait here while I fetch the housekeeper." The maid said.

She did so. When Cohen was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to Santiago.

"Was I the only one who saw her hair?" He asked.

"That wasn't hair. Those were snakes. Some of them looked at me." Santiago said. His eyes showed fear, and his hands trembled.

"I know, man. Fuckin' creepy-" Coughlin started to say.

The sound of footsteps cut their conversation short. Aurea returned with an older woman in tow.

"The housekeeper." She explained, bowing herself out.

The Housekeeper looked over the men cautiously.

"Good sirs, may I ask why you've come?" The Housekeeper asked.

"Miss, we're here on order of the JSDF. They wish to speak with the Countess." Moore answered.

"What would they wish to speak to the countess about?" She asked.

"That's classified, Ma'am. We don't even know. We can assure her safe arrival and return, though."

"Who are you?"

"We're Bellerose International, Ma'am. We're the 'Sun Harvesters'."

"Oh! My apologies, sirs. I did not know if Aurea was truthful or not. I will see if the Countess is taking visitors. Please, if you will wait for a few moments longer."

She bowed to them, then left. A while later, she returned.

"The Countess may see you now. Please follow me." She said.

"You got it." Moore said.

She motioned for the team to follow her, which they did without hesitation.

"So... What's with the girl with snake hair?" Coughlin asked.

"Aurea is one of the Medusa." The Housekeeper replied.

"Medusa?" He turned to Cohen. "Like the greek myth?"

Cohen nodded in response. They were led through the manor until they reached the doors to the great hall.

"Nice place you got here." Coughlin said.

"You humble us with your praise, sir." The Housekeeper replied.

As the team moved down the hall, they looked at the staff, hard at work. All in all, they only counted maybe three humans, including the Housekeeper.

The Housekeeper opened the door for the team. They each thanked her for doing so as they entered the hall.

They rounded the corner, looking first to the throne. They had been told that the Countess, Myui, was young, but they were not told _how_ young. Moore was looking at someone barely older than his own daughter. She met his gaze, as if she knew that this one was the leader. There was a sort of standoff between the two of them. When Myui looked into Moore's eyes, She saw a man who had to grow past his years, kind of like she had to when her father went missing.

"Your highness. I'm Nathan Moore, and this is my team. We're with Bellerose International. We're here to escort you to Alnus. The leaders of the JSDF wish to speak with you about something urgent. They want to negotiate with you there." He explained. Him and his team bowed as well as they could in their gear.

She'd never heard of that name before, but she knew of the Sun Harvesters. The ones in gray who accompanied the JSDF. According to Persia, who she had sent to Alnus to learn more about the JSDF, they were as friendly and as benevolent as their green counterparts. These people must have been with them.

"Why is it the Sun Harvesters, and not the JSDF themselves, the ones who come to ferry me there?" She asked, she tried to sound as regal as her rank implied.

"Our people are very proficient at getting important people like you where they need to be. We've got a vehicle outside waiting, and we can be at Alnus in less than half an hour."

"In less than half an hour? What could get us to Alnus that fast?"

"You know those flying things that were everywhere when the JSDF saved Italica? You're taking one of them to Alnus."

When Myui realized what he had meant, her eyes widened in excitement. She quickly regained her composure, though. She looked at the team with a look of approval.

"I understand, Sir Moore. If the JSDF wish to speak to me, I will oblige them. Let us not tarry."

She stood up and started walking toward the foyer. The team followed her. When they reached the entrance, Moore stopped her from opening the door.

"My apologies, Ma'am. We're going to form up around you. It'll make sure if someone tries to take a shot at you, they'll have a harder time." Moore explained.

They opened the door and did as Moore said. They formed up around Myui. She walked through the courtyard and city, with many looks being thrown her way from her staff as the contractors walked in formation around her. When they made it to the bird, they saw that the hawkers assistants had set up all the crates of "charms" near the bird, and the door gunners were loading them into it. When one of them saw the group, he waved them over. Moore talked to the gunners while his team got Myui situated in the blackhawk.

"We've almost got them all in. We'll be taking off in a few minutes. We'll go when the little miss there is comfortable."

"Good. We're letting the Japanese know about it when we get back."

"How the hell did you pay for these?"

"Nunya. We just got them from him. He was selling them as religious relics. We thought we'd stop it if we could, or at least lower his stock until the Japanese could fix the problem."

"Good plan. Saw that kinda crap happening in Kandahar with the kids when we went back. Stopped it as best we could, but you know how it was there. Ordinance everywhere."

Moore nodded in agreement, then got in the blackhawk and closed the doors. Myui was wide-eyed, looking around the interior. When she made it to the cockpit, the pilot waved at her and smiled.

"I didn't know that people flew these!" She exclaimed.

"They do. Been doing it for years now, miss. My name's Michael Janowski." He replied, his smile fading into a smirk.

"How does it work? Are you like a dragon rider?"

"Not at all. It's a machine, like those iron chariots you saw the JSDF driving."

"That's amazing! Can I sit up here?"

"No, your highness. Get back to your seat. We're taking off soon."

Myui returned to her seat between Moore and Santiago, crossed her arms and pouted. Even though no one could see it, Moore was smiling softly under his faceguard. Even if this girl was the leader of an entire city, she was still a kid. He thought back to how his daughter used to act when he'd go off on contracts. She'd act standoffish, sometimes even cold until he started telling her about his time there. She'd be all ears. Santiago showed her how to fasten the seatbelt, while Moore closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. They returned to Alnus rather quickly, partly due to Janowskis prior experience. According to him, he was formerly part of the Night Stalkers, and it showed with how he flew.

When they got to the Command Center, they were greeted by Hazama himself, along with some of his assistant staff.

"Countess Formar, It is a pleasure to speak to you once more. Moore, good on getting her here safe and sound."

"Not a problem, sir. Also, I'll need to speak to either you or Yanagida. We have some news about Italica. The people there are getting the wrong idea about you."

"We'll talk later, Moore."

Moore nodded and he and his team took their leave. They went back to the heliport to help Xian, Janowski and his co-pilot unload the "charms".

* * *

Moore sat across from Yanagida in the mess hall. Moore had finished his meal, why Yanagida was still eating his.

"Did Hazama say anything about the religious stuff?" Moore asked.

"We're sending people to explain to them that we're not godlike. It's good that you told us about it." Yanagida responded.

"It'll take some time. They've been selling them for a while now. How the hell did it go under the radar?"

"We were preoccupied with other matters. It didn't start until that hawker started selling them. He was stockpiling them, thinking he could sell them back to us."

"Never liked war profiteering."

"Isn't that what Bellerose does? Your company is rather secretive about their contracts."

"We are for good reason. We're PMCs. We get flak no matter what we do. Do you know how many times I've been involved in humanitarian work? More than you'd think. I've mostly done guard work, though. Foreign diplomats, CEOs, the like. I know what kind of man Bellerose is, though. He probably wishes he could do more. You know, topple dictatorships and stuff like that. Maybe it'd change how people look at The Circuit."

"So he's that kind of person."

"Yep. He was involved with some more idealistic PMCs when he was younger. I got hurt real bad during the screening and him and I talked while I was in the infirmary. He used to be part of this PMC, I can't remember their name. Said his boss there really changed how he thought mercenary work could be done. Said that's why he always carries diamonds in his breast pocket."

"Hmm. I always thought PMCs were-"

"I know what you think. You probably think we're all a bunch of trigger happy rent-a-cops. I hear it when I tell anyone what I really do for a living. I just say I'm a security consultant when I'm in polite company. Looks like I disappointed one of your soldiers a month or so ago, too. She probably thought we were like the ones in the movies. She seems to really like fighting."

"You're speaking of Kuribayashi, aren't you?"

"Yep. BK."

"BK?"

"Something Santiago calls her."

"What's it mean?"

"Said he's seen people like her before. When we were killing the saurians? She was grinning like the fucking cheshire cat. He thinks she's got problems. Kinda like the ancient little psycho. How she made it past your psych exam is a wonder to me."

"What about the Israeli? He has to be similar. I've seen him when he teaches Krav Maga. His face never changes expression. Just a hard look."

Moores expression hardened. He put his fork down and looked Yanagida in the eye.

"If you're Israeli, you don't get a choice. Cohen _had_ to serve in the IDF. He just thought that he'd make a better soldier than anything else, so he stayed in when his term was up. There's a reason Israel hasn't fallen yet, and it's not just because they get help from the US. It's because of people like him."

There was some vitriol behind Moores' words. Yanagida noticed that.

"Then why did he leave?"

"Same as me. He got tired. The reason I left MARSOC was because the Arab Lockdown was starting. I didn't want to fight them anymore. I got tired. I reached my ETS and I got discharged. He wants to get his family out of Israel. Move them to France. He lives there now. A pretty little villa on the coast."

"Hmm."

"That's what being a PMC offers you. It's one the reasons I'm one. I want to make sure my daughter has a good life. Better than mine. I don't want her to worry about rent, if she can make the next power bill, all the shit my mom and I worried about."

Yanagida raised his eyebrow upon hearing that.

"You lived a hard life, didn't you?"

"It's why I joined the Marines. The recruiter made it sound better than what I had at home. Mom really didn't like it when I told her. She didn't want me to end up like my dad. According to her, after he came back from Nam, he was changed."

"How?"

"PTSD. He was super paranoid, and he once held my mom at gunpoint because of it."

"What happened to him?"

"Got killed outside a bar a couple months before I was born."

"I don't understand how you can be so calm while talking about this."

"Easy: I never met the guy. I can only go off of what mom told me. He was real close to dodging the draft. He was getting ready to head to Canada and everything. Got drafted a few months before he could get it all prepared though."

"A coward?"

Moore shrugged slightly. He really didn't know too much about his father's personality. His mom didn't like bringing him up.

"I don't know. I'd probably have done the same in his shoes."

"Really?"

Yanagida leaned in, expectant as to what Moore would say.

"Think about it. A war of attrition, with no clear end in sight. It doesn't sound like something I'd like to be a part of. When I learned how high the casualty rate was, I really began to think I would've done the same."

"Interesting."

"Not really. Just my opinion on something I hope never happens. If the draft gets reinstated, I'll make sure my girl ain't a frontline soldier."


	7. Chapter 7: Security Detail

Santiago placed his folded sheets into a cardboard box then closed and taped it shut. He looked around the room. His team was doing the same. They had boxed up everything they had brought with them, along with anything else that the JSDF lent them that they could shove into the boxes they were given. Along with that, they finally got mail from the outside. It was waiting to be opened, sitting on Cohen's bunk. They were informed by Yanagida that Strike One and Two were being relocated to Italica, to the Formar Guard Barracks. Moore looked around the room. It looked like when they arrived nearly two months ago; bare, empty, clean.

"That's everything." Cohen said.

He placed a box on the floor, next to stacks upon stacks of other boxes. The team looked at it. It wasn't too much, but according to the quartermaster, they were preparing the Italica barracks for more than just a small group of contractors. After they got rotated out in a month, JSDF would move in. Moore thought about what they had been told. What he expected their next order to be. He wondered how the JSDF would handle it after they were finished. They've never had to train a militia, they've never had to speak with the wife of a man who was fighting alongside foreign soldiers. Foreign soldiers she now hated for getting her husband killed.

 _They've never had to._

It was a thought that had been on Moore's mind recently. Even with his time here, he never really interacted with the JSDF, outside of the occasional guard duty, or when he had to get something for his team. He watched them when they trained, though. They weren't bad, but they were untested. RCT3 really made him wonder, though. According to Yanagida, who Moore had begun to speak with more often, they were in Sadera, the capital of the Empire. They were locked in Sadera, but they were fine, according to their updates.

 _Why send a recon team there?_ He thought.

He shook the thought out of his mind, though. There was important work ahead. He picked up a stack of boxes, as did the members of his team. They had been loaned a dolly, and they placed as many of the boxes as they could on it. They walked to the heliport, where Janowski was getting ready to take them to Italica. The JSDF had loaded the blackhawks interior down with cargo, so there was enough room for the team to sit, but it would be a cramped ride there. His team began loading more boxes into the helicopter while Moore talked with Janowski.

"Anything else we need?" Moore asked.

"Nah. We got everything." Janowski replied.

"You comin' too?"

"Yep. Gonna set up a temporary heliport."

"You ready to go?"

"Just a few more minutes, then we'll be ready. Is the elf coming along?"

"I... don't know. I mean, she's not that far away. We can fly back here in no time if we're told we were supposed to take her with us. I never heard anything about it, though."

Janowski shrugged. Moore had a point.

"Hear anything about Turnbull's team?" Moore asked.

"Nothin' outside that they got sent near the capital last night. Some important people to protect." Janowski replied.

"Get anything from home? Finally got our mail through."

"Yeah."

Janowski reached into one of the larger pockets on his jumpsuit, pulling out a small tablet. It wasn't too big, probably a little larger than his hand. It had a rigid metal case around it, so it was larger than it should have been.

"Wife sent me a tablet, with like twelve-hundred books on it. Loaded up with movies and music too. You?"

"Haven't checked yet. We'll do it when we get set up."

"Also, I got a lot of extra stuff that Bellerose sent us. Stuff to help in case this war goes hot."

"What?"

"Most of it was in crates so I couldn't get a good look. I think I saw gun cases though."

"New guns?"

"Never checked what they were, just loaded them on the bird. A shit-ton came through when Japan told the world about the rampant slavery here."

"Hmm."

"You ready to go or what?"

"I am. Just give my guys some time."

Janowski nodded, then entered the cockpit. Moore helped his team load up the rest of their belongings, then they entered the interior, unfolded some of the unblocked seats, and got ready for the trip to Italica. Moore reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his cell phone. It was a Samsung Galaxy S10, with a matte black rigid metal case, similar to the one that was on Janowski's new tablet. He pressed a button on the side and the lock screen turned on. It was a picture of him and Melissa. They both wore jackets, with a sweater underneath his and a hoodie underneath hers. They were both smiling. He had taken the picture when they took a vacation to Yellowstone in October, a few months before he had been selected for this contract. He looked at the date: March twentieth, twenty twenty-one.

 _Six more months and I'm gone._ Moore thought.

Cohen closed the blackhawk's door as they started ascending.

* * *

The Roses watched the people standing in the windows skeptically. These people had come under cover of night, in a metal gryphon that hadn't made a sound, and told them that they were supposed to guard the diplomats. They hadn't taken this news well, since they had been told by their princess that they would solely guard the diplomats while she had tried to talk her brother out of his insanity. One of them, Bozes Co Palesti, spoke with her comrades.

"The nerve of those people! Just who are they to involve themselves with our mission?" One of them, a young woman with short purple hair by the name of Beefeater, asked.

"According to Sir Sugawara, they are allies with Japan." Bozes explained.

"I still don't understand why they hadn't told us of their arrival." Beefeater said.

She looked at the palace and saw one of these people in gray. He was a bear of a man with a strong face. Here and there, streaks of grey could be seen in his dark hair, which made him look older than he actually was. He looked down at Beefeater, his face hard and expressionless. He was holding a weapon similar to the ones used by the SDF, but with a much larger box underneath it. According to him, it was known as an "Ell-Em-Gee". He had introduced himself as Dima Orlov. She broke eye contact with him, turning away from his gaze. She heard him go back inside the palace. She looked back and saw the barrel of a rifle sticking out of one of the openings in the palace's steeple. The one who wielded it had introduced himself as Michael Kwambai. He preferred it if they called him Mick, but Mickey was fine too. He said he came from "England", the same place as their leader, Hammond Turnbull.

What she had remembered about the man known as Turnbull, above all else, was his left hand. It didn't match his skin tone, being black as pitch, and hard like armor. Mick had skin like a dark elf, but when contrasted with the pale man with the black hand, she wondered about their country, how two different races like that could get along. Deep down, she hoped that one day she might see it, that she might be given the same pleasure that her commander had been given and walk the world past the gate. She had not the pleasure of meeting the other three people that accompanied them, but she expected that the time would come when she would.

"These ones in gray confuse me." Bozes stated.

Her voice tore Beefeater away from her thoughts. She turned to look at her captain.

"When I visited their world, I was somewhat informed of the other countries aside from Japan. Many of them wish for access to here. They would give anything to come here. These ones in gray seem to not care that they are in another world entirely!" Bozes explained.

"Maybe they are not formal soldiers. Maybe they are something else." Beefeater pondered.

"Mercenaries?"

"Perhaps they are."

"Don't be foolish."

"How am I being foolish? All I am saying is that maybe the SDF hired mercenaries to bolster their numbers. The Empire has done it countless times. We both know how few SDF there are."

"They are _**not**_ the Empire, Beefeater."

Bozes cut the conversation there, heading back into her tent and leaving Beefeater alone, staring at the rifle barrel pointing out of the steeple.

* * *

Moore flopped down on the bed and felt the mattress cushion his fall. He sank into it more. God, he loved this mattress. The last few hours had been tiring, as they had set up as much of the guard barracks as they could in a few hours, attaching solar panels to the roof and running wires to power the generators they were given. Strike Two's assistance had made it easier, but they had still only been able to set up a portion of the barracks. Just enough for the two teams to settle in. Moore and the leader of Strike Two, as a gesture of friendship by Myui, had been given lodging within the manor itself. He had once again met Aurea, along with the trio of other maids that, according to the Housekeeper, were to be his personal servants while he and his team spent their time here. He noticed that the one who had cat ears was the first person that Miss Ayako had interviewed when they first arrived here.

He thought back to then, when he and his team were only supposed to be security guards for some Japanese suit as they bled this place dry. When he wasn't wearing a uniform, but just a shirt and jeans. He thought farther back, to his time in the Middle East when his unit would have to guard an oil field. He never liked the sight of them, what they did to the land around them. He sat up, looking around his new room. It was quite grand, grander than someone like him had ever experienced. He had organized everything he had brought with him. His pills on the nightstand, and his spare uniforms and casual clothes hung in the armoire. He opened the nightstand drawer and looked at his sidearm. He knew where he had put everything he had brought with him, and that brought him some comfort. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. With how quickly things had changed over the last two weeks, he was hoping for _some_ stability, at least until he was moved back to Alnus.

He heard a knock on his door. Moore instinctively reached for his sidearm, placing it on the bed next to him. He heard a voice on the other side of the door.

"Mister Moore? Are you awake? May I come in?" The voice said.

"Sure." He replied.

The door opened and one of his maids entered. He tried to recall her name. Something with an M, he remembered. Not the human with the M, but the rabbit.

"I'm sorry, but what's your name again?" He asked.

"Mamina, Sir." Mamina replied.

"Right. So, what did you want?" He asked.

He slid the pistol under his pillow. He wouldn't need it.

"Countess Myui wished to know exactly what you were planning on doing here."

"She can't ask me herself?"

"It's past her bedtime."

Moore chuckled at the thought. He sighed, then stood up.

"To be honest miss: I don't know." Moore crossed his arms. "I know what we're probably going to do though."

"And what is that?"

Maminas gaze went from one of curiosity to one of expectation.

"We're probably going to train a security force."

Mamina cocked her head slightly, trying to understand the man.

"A militia."

Mamina had understood that. Her eyes lit up with excitement.

"A militia?! Please, Sir Moore, I beg of you, allow me to enlist!"

Her eagerness caused him to shrink back.

"It's not up to me!" He said.

"Then who is it up to?!" She advanced on him, getting a firm hold on his shirt.

"Cohen!"

"Which of you is Cohen?! Please tell me!"

"Why're you so adamant on this? Also, can you let go of my shirt?"

She did as he asked, creeping away sheepishly. She stopped and looked at Moore with a serious expression.

"The countess's father, Colt, gave me and my comrades a home when we hadn't one. I owe the Formar Clan everything. It's why I work as a maid. He wouldn't let us join the town guard. I believe I can protect Myui, she just has to see that I can. She's always known me as the cheerful bunny girl that helps her dress but I want to be known as one of her loyal guards. Please, Sir Moore, talk to Sir Cohen and let me enlist!"

Moore crossed his arms again, looking at the maid with a smirk.

"I hear ya. We're gonna set up training tomorrow."

"You mean-"

"Yeah. Show up mid-morning. We're going to be out near the front of the manor."

Her eyes widened, and a smile formed on her lips. She started to tear up. He hadn't expected her to embrace him, but he returned it, patting her on the back.

"Thank you! I won't fail you!" She said.

She wiped her eyes, bowed to him, then left.

The next morning, there had been a plethora of people who had come at the news spread around town: that the ones in gray were training a militia for the SDF. The crowd watched as the ones who were willing to enlist lined up in front of the contractors. There were thirty in all, with Mamina and Persia being among the volunteers. A sizable number of the volunteers were from the Warrior Bunny and Cat people population. Cohen scanned the crowd, looking for any more people that might want to step up.

"Does anyone else want to step up in the name of Italica? Do you really wish for the SDF to continue protecting you forever? ANYONE?!" He shouted.

A handful more stepped forward, young men and women, some looking just on the cusp of adulthood, while others looked roughly around Coughlin's age. Cohen inspected them, then pointed at the other volunteers. They joined the line.

"Last call. Anyone else?" Cohen called to the crowd.

No one else stepped forward.

"If no one else wishes to step forward, I ask that you vacate the premises. We're going to need this whole courtyard."

With Strike two's help, they were able to corral the citizens out of the courtyard. When the last of the citizens left, Cohen locked the gate behind them. Some of the volunteers looked worried, while others, including Mamina and Persia, didn't look too surprised at it.

"I'll give you one more chance to leave. No one will think less of you." He said, scanning his recruits.

One man stepped forward. One of the last to volunteer. He couldn't meet Cohen's gaze as he walked toward him.

"Second thoughts?" Cohen asked.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Cohen led him to the gate, talking to him in a low whisper. He patted the young man on the back as he left. He walked back to the remaining volunteers.

"That was your last chance. There's no going back now. I want you all to go to the guard barracks. Those of you who work here, lead the ones who don't know the way. I'll catch up shortly."

The volunteers did as he ordered. Cohen's team converged on him.

"What did you tell that boy? I heard you whispering to him." Moore asked. He made sure that he spoke in English, since the recruits were still in earshot.

"I told him that he shouldn't be ashamed of not wishing to be a soldier. Of having second thoughts. A man has the right to choose his fate, and he isn't any less of one for not choosing this path through life." Cohen responded.

The others nodded, then the group went to join their recruits.

* * *

Turnbull crept through the woods surrounding the palace, the only things illuminating his path the moon and his night vision goggles. He reached for the radio at his chest, connected to his throat mic.

"Turnbull here. No sign of the disturbance. Will continue searching. Over."

"Roger, Cap. I think I saw something on camera two. Can you check it out? Over." The voice.

Turnbull's newest addition to his team. Ronald Harren. Apparently he was former FBI SWAT before somehow making it through the Bellerose selection process. He preferred Ron to Ronald. At least he wasn't like how Nessa was with nicknames.

"What did you see? Over."

"Looked human. Fuck! He saw the camera. Get over there NOW. Over."

"Got it. Out."

Turnbull made his way to where they had set up camera two. Over the last few days, they had begun securing the perimeter, much to the Roses dismay. They still hadn't taken well to a bunch of supposed mercenaries, as the rumor had been circulating around them, coming in and doing their job. What confused them more was that these supposed mercenaries rarely left the Jade Palace, save for late at night. Turnbull vaulted over a fallen tree on his way to camera two. He admired the forest around him. It was natural. Untended. Not like most of the ones surrounding London these days. The fact that they hadn't done any gardening in the forest was quite beneficial for Turnbull as well. Due to the thick nature of the foliage, they were able to hide their security cameras rather well. They had set up multiple in the areas surrounding the palace, and they had been rather useful these last few days, as they had spotted people in the woods surrounding the palace, coming and going, as if to spy on it's denizens.

Turnbull quietly rounded a large tree. He saw someone standing close to the camera. They had discovered it and were investigating it, trying to pry open the protective case with a dagger. They had a dark cloak obscuring them, so Turnbull could barely make out their features, aside from that they looked male. The strangest thing? The hood of the cloak looked to imitate the head of a wolf or some other type of canine. He crept toward them in a low crouch, trying his hardest to make sure they didn't hear him. He had almost made it when he stepped on a twig, snapping it.

The man turned around, slicing at the air with the dagger. He looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the noise. He hadn't seen Turnbull drop into the dense foliage covering the forest floor. Turnbull turned off his goggles and waited. Eventually, the man, as he had noticed, turned around and went back to trying to pry off the camera's casing. Turnbull didn't need the goggles for what he was about to do. He slowly got back to his feet and approached the man. The man didn't hear it, lost in concentration. Turnbull closed the distance and kicked the man hard. He knocked against the tree, dropping the dagger. He tried to turn around, but Turnbull quickly grappled him, putting him in a chokehold. The man struggled and thrashed vehemently, but in a few seconds it was over. Turnbull felt the man stop struggling and go slack. He held the hold for a few more seconds before letting the man fall. He looked to the camera and gave a thumbs up and a smile. As he went to pick the man up, he felt his foot hit something. He picked it up off the ground, looking at it in confusion.

 _A bloody broom?_

He showed it to the camera, then grabbed the man by his collar and began dragging him back to the palace, resting the broom on his shoulder as he walked back.

"The fuck, cap. Don't you have a suppressor?" Ron said.

"Never liked killing people, Ron. It's just part of the job." Turnbull replied.

"Gonna leave him there?"

"Hell no. We'll find out who he is."

"What's with the broom?"

"No idea. Bringin' it back with me, though. Out."

"Roger."

When he made it back to the Palace, he had multiple roses, along with Dima and Nessa run toward the duo. Turnbull threw the man forward.

"Found this guy skulkin' about the woods. Dima, Sabra: get him into the palace." Turnbull ordered.

"Affirmative." Dima replied. He threw the man over his shoulder.

Nessa glared at Turnbull, angered by his use of the nickname he'd given her. She trained her MP5 on the unconscious man as they took him into the palace. They took him past the diplomats, who had been woken by the movement outside their doors. Sugawara came forward, a look of confusion on his face.

"Is something wrong? Who is that man? Why is he unconscious?" He asked.

"Nothing's wrong, I don't know, and The Captain caught him sneaking around the embassy." Nessa answered.

Nessa had answered too quickly. Sugawara, in his daze, had trouble understanding her.

"He what?" He asked.

"Follow us." Dima said.

Dima took him to the palace's cellar, where most of the wines and spirits were held. They passed rows and rows of alcohol, according to Bozes, with the oldest being at the end. putting him at the very end of the cellar. Nessa quickly returned to his side with a chair from upstairs and a rope coiled around her torso. When Turnbull had finished explaining his experiences to the Diplomats and Rose captains, they followed him down there, along with the other members of Strike Three, save for Mick. When they got down into the cellar, they saw that Dima and Nessa had tied the man up and had slapped him awake. The man's eyes darted around fearfully before focusing on the group as they walked toward him.

"Who are you?" Turnbull asked.

"Ambroggio Du Antonini." The man answered.

"Why are you here?" Turnbull asked. He advanced on the bound man.

"I'm not telling you, you filthy-"

"Shut it!" Turnbull shouted, interrupting him. "None of that! Tell me why you're skulking around an embassy! Armed I might add!" Turnbull shouted.

"Like I said, I'm not telling you." Ambroggio said.

He spit at Turnbull's feet. Turnbull shook his head.

"Permission to interrogate?" Turnbull asked, looking at Sugawara.

"Of course not! How do you even know this man is-" Sugawara wasn't able to finish his sentence.

"Holyshitwhatthefuck!" Ron shouted, his southern Californian accent breaking through.

Turnbull and Sugawara turned around to see Ron holding the broom. Well, what used to be a broom. The broom head had disappeared, being replaced by a spear head.

"Wasn't that a broom?" Sugawara asked.

"It's a spear now apparently." Turnbull answered. "How'd you do that Ron? You never told me you were a wizard."

"No Cap, I ain't a wizard. I, uh, I.. I did this." He replied.

Ron grabbed a metal ring near the head of the spear, pulling it down. The spearhead went into the haft. Ron let go, and the ring sprung forward, the broom head replacing the spear head.

Sugawara turned to look at Bozes, who had seen the brooms transformation and stared at it in awe.

"Do you know the name Antonini?"

"The Antonini family is noble. They sent one of their sons to command their forces in the initial invasion of Japan. As of now, they fall into the pro-war party within the senate."

"Is this the one who got sent over?"

"Yes. He was one of the nobles taken captive during Ginza. He was one of the prisoners released in the first talk Princess Pina had with the Japanese government."

Sugawara looked at Turnbull. His look told Turnbull all he had feared. This was the look of someone who saw a rising storm. He'd seen it enough times in his career to tell it at first glance.

"I am going to contact my superiors, they'll decide if you can interrogate him. Miss Palesti, tell these men all that you know about the Antonini family." He said, making sure he had said it in Japanese.

Sugawara left the cellar, leaving the contractors and knights surrounding the captured noble. On his way out, he took one of the bottles of spirits with him. Turnbull turned to Ron once more.

"Think you could do that thing with the broom-spear again?" He asked.

* * *

Moore watched through one of the barracks windows as Cohen trained the new militia. The non-humans and the former bandits had an easy time keeping pace with Cohen as he ran them around the manor, but the recruits who had simply been citizens were having quite the degree of trouble. Cohen slowed down until he was running alongside the slow recruits. Moore could hear him shouting, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. He turned away and continued typing on his laptop, sitting on the one of the tables in the barracks. He looked at it. He'd only gotten the title worked out.

 _GATE: Strike One's Story._

He cringed at the title. What had possessed him to spell out 'Gate' in all caps? He closed the program and went back to looking through the rest of his care package. He hadn't gotten anything grand aside from the laptop; just some creature comforts not stocked at the PX. Along with that, a bunch of letters had been in the package, apparently sent by Melissa's class. His mother had been looking out for him, sending him multiple packs of nicotine gum. His was modest compared to what Coughlin had been sent. He looked over at the "Fun House", as Coughlin had named it. He'd used one of the larger sheets and had made a makeshift screen out of it, and had "borrowed" a few of house Formar's couches and comfier chairs, all surrounding a stack of crates. Atop the crates was a projector. Coughlin's family had sent him a few things to accompany it: a universal remote control, a media storage device, filled with movies, television shows, and documentaries, and many yards of cables. Over the last few days, he made everyone watch something with him. Last night it was _Alien._ God, he'd not seen that in years. He was sure he'd never heard someone scream as loud as one of the maids when she saw the xenomorph for the first time.

The Japanese had finally set up internet access, somehow, in Alnus about a week before Moore had to relocate. It was great for Moore, as he was able to talk with his daughter more, but this move put a damper on that, at least for a while. He looked around the formerly clean barracks. To say that the two teams had made it feel like their former home was an understatement. The floor was crisscrossed with extension cords and power strips, and they had put makeshift curtains over many of the windows. Coughlin had hung extra sheets around his bunk, essentially walling himself off whenever he slept. Santiago had commandeered one of the tables and had made a portion of the barracks into a makeshift infirmary, his own bed close by.

Cohen had left his almost untouched, keeping everything he would have needed the most close to his bed, where he thought he would need it in case he heard the call to battle. They hadn't set up Abrams' things yet, and they were still packed away in the barracks storeroom. He walked around the barracks, looking at what the two teams had set up in their time here. They'd converted the armory from one that stored primitive weapons to one that they could use, and had placed their new kit in it. They weren't told all that had come through, but Janowski had heard the story from the Alnus Quartermaster. Apparently Bellerose had been trying his best to outfit the contractors from their armory back at headquarters.

Two M1014s, modified with heat shields and sidesaddle shell carriers and five MP5A5s with reflex sights, suppressors and subsonic ammunition to compliment them.

One GP-34 grenade launcher with multiple cases of grenades, which according to Coughlin were "from Russia with love", and Five SW1911s. There had been more, but Moore's team hadn't gotten any more than that. Moore was quite relieved they hadn't been given any more, since with all they had been given, their makeshift armory was almost full to bursting with ordinance.

The barracks hadn't been designed to hold more than fifteen people, so there wasn't much room and so they had almost filled it in one day. Thanks to some paranoia from one of Strike Two's members, they modified the door to the armory to make sure that only they know how to get in. This wasn't really much, just adding a padlock latch to the door with only them knowing where Moore had hidden the key.

Some kit was sent to Strike Two and Three, while more had been simply given to whichever team got to it first or simply stored away for later use, either by the Japanese or by the Conrtactors themselves. Moore hadn't kept up with news from the outside, but according to Janowski, Bellerose himself had been working closely with the Japanese brass and American advisers.

According to the Russia Today, the United Nations had slowly been preparing a force to be sent through the gate to assist the already spread thin JSDF personnel. This had been met with multiple complications, being not just from external sources, but from specific political parties within Japan itself. Many right wing groups protested the presence of the PMC within the Special Region, which many had stated "belonged to Japan and Japan alone.", according to the spokesperson of the right wing group known as Nihon Seinensha, Takumi Ishikawa.

Along with that, the arrival of the gate had sent many religious organizations into a frenzy, with many either demanding access to the gate, or campaigning for the destruction of it. The Arab World and Middle East were among the most outspoken for the gate's destruction, and the riots and general upheaval had caused a massive backlash, with many terrorist organizations making sure that everyone knew they despised the gate and all who are on the other side.

The news media had been especially unkind to his company, though. They had been attacking their lack of transparency and supposed shunning of applicants, even going as far as to attack individual members of the company. Many more attacked the Director himself.

He'd heard all the stories, all the rumors. His Boss's past was shrouded in mystery. To the news, it made him even more of a target than the fact that he was the founder of a PMC. Some had said that he was involved with many African wars when he was younger, while others went as far as to say that he was a former mujahid. None of these people had proof, with the only credible accusations citing the company's relatively small presence in certain African nations. It made knowledge of the company skyrocket. They were well-known within the circuit itself for protecting high-value targets and their armed escorts, but to the public, they were relatively unknown before Japan had paid for their services. He watched the recruits round the manor once more, this time, the stragglers led the pack, determination visible in their faces. Moore smiled as he watched them.

 _They'll be something someday._ He thought.

He watched them train. They had drive and purpose, and in Moore's mind, it would lay the groundwork for Italica's new security force if Japan didn't veto it. They hadn't actually gotten any orders for training a militia yet, but they expected one of two things: They would give them the green light, or they would have to shut the program down before it even began. Moore hoped for the former, but was prepared for the latter. He watched as two recruits, Mamina and Persia, broke off from the pack in a dead sprint. Cohen sprinted behind them and shouted at the top of his lungs.

 _They still need discipline, though._

A few moments later, the trio were in the barracks. Cohen, who had led them in by their collars, forcefully sat them down on a pair of chairs facing Moore's makeshift desk. He then left to continue training the other recruits. Moore looked at the two, who avoided eye contact in response. Both of them tried to speak, but Moore interrupted them.

"What was the point of that little race?" He asked.

"Well..." Mamina started.

"I challenged her!" Persia interrupted.

Mamina, surprised by the outburst, looked at Persia. Moore's expression hadn't changed, but he knew what was going on.

"Is that true, Mamina?" Moore asked.

Mamina hesitated, looking at Persia, and then Moore. Eventually, she finally spoke up.

"Yes. It's true. She challenged me, whoever could complete the set first wins."

"Win what?"

"They win. That's it."

"Hmm. Persia, Mamina: one-hundred push-ups and three times around the manor. If you stop before you're finished you start over."

"Yes sir." They said in unison, sullenly.

"You've got to be disciplined to be a good soldier. I want you both to succeed, alright? Get to it. Mamina, stay a bit longer."

Both of them looked at Moore in surprise, but they listened. Persia looked at her friend with concern, then stood up and left the barracks.

"I know you challenged her." He stated.

She looked away from him.

"You've got to own up to your actions. Don't let anyone take the blame for you. I see promise in you, and I want you to stay in the program, but don't let us catch you doing that anymore." He said.

She nodded in response.

"Get to it."

She stood up and left without saying a word.

Moore shook his head. He knew that Mamina and all the other non-humans had potential, but they had wild streaks. Those primal urges to prove you're superior, prove your worth. He had them once, a long time ago, but time beat them out of him. He walked to one of the couches and lied down and closed his eyes. He might as well try to get some more sleep. Cohen had this covered. Moore would have never admitted it to him, but he'd have made a good drill instructor if he'd been born in the States.

* * *

Sugawara walked down the cellar steps. He looked around the shelves. Multiple bottles of wine or spirits had gone missing, and he knew exactly where they had went. He walked to the end of the cellar, toward the sound of laughing and banter. He turned the row of shelves to the tasting room, where the contractors were sitting with Ambroggio, whose face was red with intoxication. Multiple bottles of wine were strewn about the table, with some having fallen off the table and shattered on the stone floor. They were all laughing about something, with Ambroggio laughing the hardest, nearly falling out of his chair. He saw Sugawara and shakily got up from the table. He stumbled over to him and clasped his hands on his shoulders.

"Hey!" He said.

Sugawara cringed. The nobleman's breath reeked of alcohol. He'd been locked up for a few days now, his government telling him not to interrogate the man, but don't let him go back to his superiors, lest he ruin the peace talks. Turnbull clearly hadn't listened to Sugawara, having interrogated him in a less harmful way.

"Yes?" Sugawara asked.

"I wanna join!" Ambroggio said.

"Join what?" Sugawara asked.

"The good guys! You Japs!" He slurred.

Sugawara glared at Turnbull. Ambroggio certainly hadn't learnt that slang from the Japanese.

"We got him to talk. **_Without_** torture. No conventions violated." Turnbull said. He snickered and then pointed to a recorder on the table.

"You're gonna want to hear some of this." Turnbull stated. His expression hardening.

Turnbull and Sugawara went upstairs, to his room within the palace. Sugawara sat at the desk while Turnbull stood. He placed the recorder on the table and pressed play.

"That's how we got through the Kabul blockade! Idiots didn't know how to work the AA guns! Blew up the ammo dump, and the Marines took care of the rest!" Turnbull said.

The group laughed. The only one who couldn't be heard was Ambroggio. Turnbull looked at Sugawara.

"It's farther in. Sorry. Kept the thing rolling the whole time." He said.

He fast forwarded through the recording, until he was about an hour in.

"See, the thing about that fucking stupid, stupid, stupid prince is that _**he. Is. Stupid.**_ " Ambroggio said.

The group laughed. The sound of a bottle shattering could be heard.

"Now, fucking stupid prince was still mad he got beat up by a Jap, so he's all like 'I'm gonna get back at them!' and gets a bunch of us together to form some kind of plan. He's gonna go and start a better Empire! Better than his dad's!"

Someone could be heard standing up,the chair clattering against stone. Another bottle shattered.

"Bullshit, all of it! He's too much of an idiot to think that far ahead. No idea how he made it this far. Since his dad got sick and he took power he started this thing, calls it the 'Committee for Protecting and Restoring the Primacy of something something'." He paused for a moment. "We call it the Oprichnina. Easier to remember."

"What do you do?" Dima asked.

"What else would we do? Stupid is so angry against Japan that he wants to destroy them. He's got us together to make sure the Empire votes for war! Capture the doves, back the hawks! That's what we're told!"

Turnbull paused the recorder.

"Hear that?" Turnbull asked Sugawara. "He's made himself his own little Gestapo."

"I'll inform my superiors." Sugawara responded.

"They'll want to hear about this. We've got a Reign of Terror going on here. We're gonna secure the area tomorrow. Just in case."

Turnbull left Sugawara with the tape. His steps echoed through the halls as he walked to their wing of the palace. They'd set up the west wing of the palace as their little domicile. Turnbull made it to his room, which was the smallest of the rooms in the wing. He opened his door and walked to his bed, pulling a box out from underneath it, tucking it under his arm. He then made his way to the largest bedroom in the west wing, which was home to their supplies. Over the last week, they had been given multiple shipments of ammunition and extra gear in night drops. They'd stockpiled it, making sure that every single magazine they had was loaded, that all their gear worked, especially their radio. He grabbed another box, reading the label and tucking it underneath his other arm.

Bozes was awoken by a commotion outside her tent. She sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. She hadn't even been fully awake when Turnbull burst into her tent, followed by Beefeater and another knight. They tried to forcefully remove him from the tent, but Bozes raised her hand.

"Stop!" She said.

They did as she commanded. They didn't leave the tent, but they eyed Turnbull, watching his every move. He placed the boxes on the table, then pulled out the chair and sat down, crossing his legs. Bozes eyed him closely. He broke the silence.

"Miss Palesti." He greeted.

"Turnbull. Why do you burst into my tent at this hour?" She replied.

Her agitation was present in her voice and her expression.

"You know that noble we caught sneaking around the embassy?"

"Yes. The oldest Antonini son."

"He's part of the Prince's secret police."

"Secret police?!"

"Yes. The Oprichnina, as they call it. They're targeting the doves. Zorzal really wants your government to go to war against a vastly superior foe."

Bozes' eyes widened in shock.

"He wants to... how can he be that foolish?!"

"No idea. The Antonini says he's a bloody idiot. Probably not smart enough to do this himself. I'm thinking he might be a puppet."

Bozes interest was piqued. She leaned forward to hear him better.

"Do you know who might be controlling him?"

"No idea. He might've been hiding his brilliance for all we know right now. Either way, I'm going to start working with you and your knights. Make sure that if things go wrong we can hold out against anything. At least until we get rescued."

"What do you propose?"

"You learn a bit about our way of fighting. Learn how to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Essentially, if a force superior in numbers attacks, you and your knights can survive longer with us."

"You..." She eyed him angrily. She remembered how they had treated the Roses. They scoffed at the tales of their training, their battles fought. "You mustn't expect me to trust you based simply upon what you told us a week ago; that you're to protect the diplomats. I hope you understand that we don't trust you or your people."

"I get that, but if you want to survive we're going to have to work together. I'll let you ask me ten questions. Go."

Bozes' eyes widened in surprise. She knew what she would do.

"Where are your forces from?"

"Technically, we're from all over the world. Nine more."

"Hmm." Bozes chose her next question carefully.

"Are you mercenaries? There's been rumors galore surrounding your background."

Turnbull smirked. He loved explaining this.

"Technically yes."

From behind him, Beefeater crossed her arms and smirked. Bozes shot her a disapproving glare before returning her attention to Turnbull.

"We are and we aren't. Mercenaries in our world are basically outlawed. There's a whole bunch of laws and regulations, but Japan has gotten around them. We're not fighting a war. They've declared the Special Region temporarily part of Japan; essentially a protectorate, and we're protecting important assets and people. They've also let no one know what they've been using us for. As far as they know, I'm not here. I'm guarding Italica or Alnus, where the media are right now. The new name for a mercenary is PMC, or private military contractor. We're a euphemism, a loophole. At least that's how I see it. You've still got eight."

"Your world is strange." Beefeater interrupted.

"You can say that again." Turnbull replied. He chuckled.

"I have two more questions, but I cannot think of anymore."

"Shoot. I'll let you ask me the rest later."

"Why are you helping the Japanese?"

"Not up to me. I'd say Bellerose, our leader, thinks the Japanese can't fight a real war anymore. To be honest, I think the only reason they've got so far is because they've got better tech than you."

"Why are _you_ here?"

She pointed at Turnbull.

"To protect the SDF and all of you. I'll tell you why I'm a PMC: I'm a soldier. It's all I'm good at. I would've been a soldier for England for many more years if it wasn't for this." He stood up and began removing his shirt. Beefeater's eyes widened in horror of what she saw.

More than his hand was made of metal. His right arm was muscled, well-toned for someone of his age, as was the rest of his torso. Save for his left arm. She had seen his left hand before, when Panache had talked to him. What she saw now was a mockery of an arm. It roughly matched his right arm in size and shape, but like his hand, it was pitch black. When he articulated the wrist and elbow, a soft whirring could be heard. She watched on in horror as he removed his undershirt, showing that the arm was only connected to his body by some kind of harness that went around the top of his back and chest.

"In twenty-seventeen, about four years ago in a few months, Me and my team were a part of a joint operation with the United States; the country Ron's from, to retake a city named Kabul. A group of rebels who'd been trained and equipped by a terrorist group had essentially locked down the entire city and cordoned it off from the rest of the world. I got sent in to help retake it. A light machine gun was hidden in a high rise, a really tall building near our objective. I was on point and he saw me first. That's all it takes. Ruined my left arm. Lucky it didn't kill me. A little inward probably would've. Went right here."

He pointed three fourths up his left arm. Placing his finger on the spot.

"Pretty much took the arm off. Hung on by a few strips of skin, tendon, and my uniform. They had to cut the rest off at the shoulder. Said it wouldn't heal properly otherwise. England was gonna put me on reserve duty. I wasn't up for that. I'm more effective on the ground, in the action. Not stuck behind a bloody desk. If you show you can do fine with the prosthesis, you can get into Bellerose International. Said his former boss did fine with his arm below the elbow missing. He'd go into missions on his own. Come out perfectly fine, right as rain, even!"

Bozes had covered her mouth in shock during the course of the story. Beefeater had left the room when he showed the prosthetic. She fell to her knees near a patch of bushes. Seeing the disfigurement had made her stomach churn. She had to get away, to never see that again. She thought about how it looked. It was so very close to a human arm, but something felt off. It wasn't natural. She couldn't hold it back anymore. She vomited in the bushes.

"Now, you asked me why I was here? I don't want anymore soldiers to end up like me. The Japanese have never seen combat, never seen the horrors of war. They can only rely on their training. They're not ready for it up here." Turnbull pointed to his head. "Whoever might be controlling your prince is smart. They're probably going to figure out how to make the SDF squirm. Make them hurt. Miss Bozes: In war, there's more than one way to hurt an enemy. You can simply deplete their numbers or you can lower their morale to the point that they no longer have any motivation to fight or you can hurt their minds and make them see things they wish they never saw. Your man doesn't seem like the kind of person who cares about the lives of his subjects and doesn't care about hurting, or god forbid, killing them to win."

He paused for a moment and looked around the tent.

"I'm here to stop that, or at the very least lessen the blow. Essentially, I'm protecting an army from another army. When I think about it too hard, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it."

Turnbull smirked at the thought.

"I'm here to protect everyone from him. That's what I was paid to do. Japan, their army, you, and your comrades. When I found out that his little Empire was basically a dictatorship, I got mad. Real mad. I want to free your people. Help make a better government. Everyone deserves a happy life and under him that's not gonna bloody happen."

Bozes thought for a moment. This man, his team, all his comrades were on their side, even if the governments of their world didn't allow them to take sides. They might have been paid well, better than any of the SDF, but they were more than just dogs of war. Their hearts were in the right place. She remembered what Miss Reiko did to show agreement when her lady had agreed on campaigning for peace with Japan. In her mind, it fitted this situation. She extended her hand, Turnbull meeting it and shaking it.

"Good. We start tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8: Pietas Intermissis

**Back from the dead!**

 **Sorry for the long update gap. All I can do is apologize. To be honest, it hasn't felt like three months, but as I check the calendar, it is. For the long wait, all I have to say is that my work, along with college, got in the way. The two of those combined barely gave me time to update. Along with this chapter I went through over the last few months and changed some things over many of the chapters. I also fixed as many errors as I could find in this chapter. When I posted this earlier this morning I wasn't that... conscious? I was somewhere in the borderland between drowsiness and being actually awake, so I didn't notice that the transitions weren't in the latter half of the chapter, along with some of the spelling errors.**

 **Either way though, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It was morning in Italica and it was raining. Santiago heard the patter of the rain on the roof of the barracks, since it had kept him from going back to sleep for the last hour. He'd tossed and turned, trying his damndest to fall asleep once more, but it was no use. The rain won. He sat up in his bed, looking around the barracks. Save for the storeroom and armory, along with artificial walls that the contractors had erected, the barracks was mostly one large room. The place was rather dim since the windows had been covered. His watch rested on his makeshift operating table, the hands glowing softly in the dim light.

 _Oh-seven-hundred?_

He stood up and quietly maneuvered to one of the windows, pulling back the curtains. The rain was coming down hard, very hard. The morning sun had been completely obscured by the clouds, giving the day a somber, overcast feeling.

 _Overslept, didn't I?_

He saw the manor door nearest to the barracks open. A cloaked figure left the manor and made their way toward the barracks, jogging so as to minimise her exposure to the rain. He could easily see their green dress under the heavy cloak, but he couldn't make out who it was. It wasn't the countess. Much too tall. Maybe it was one of the maids? They'd been getting friendlier with him since he announced that he would offer his services to everyone who works for the Countess. Why weren't they wearing their uniform? He began rattling off the names he knew. She wasn't too tall and didn't have a visible tail, so it wasn't Persia or Mamina. He watched her as she hurried to the door, out of his sight. He heard her softly knock on the door of the barracks.

"Anyone gonna get that?" Santiago asked.

As he expected, no one responded. He knew he was probably the only one awake at this ungodly hour. The others had been up late having a movie marathon with some of the maids. He had fallen asleep early. He'd never been one for all-nighters. The only thing he heard was Coughlin's dreadful snoring. He sighed, opening the door for the girl, who hurried inside and out of the rain.

When the girl pulled back her hood, he saw who it was. It was the maid with the snake hair. He didn't remember her name, since she usually didn't have any problems she wanted looked at, along with the fact that she had snakes for hair. He didn't do snakes. She looked at him, standing there in his sweatpants and tank top, and he looked at her. Her heavy cloak had soaked up a considerable amount of rain in the short trip over to the barracks. It was dripping, making small puddles on the floor. He pointed to some long nails, the contractors having hammered them into the wall so they could hang their coats. The maid removed her cloak and placed it on the makeshift rack.

"Good morning, Sir." She said, bowing.

"Mornin'." He replied, covering his mouth as he yawned.

"Is anyone else awake?" She asked.

"Nah. Won't be awake for a while, either. What's up?"

"Well, Sir Coughlin told me last night that if I had any questions about your world that I could ask him."

Santiago looked over at Coughlin's bunk. Like many of the contractors, Coughlin had been trying to get friendlier with some of the maids of Clan Formar. They enjoyed watching movies with them since it was something that they'd never seen before, though Santiago wished Coughlin didn't choose as many horror movies as he did. He was sure that Mohmu had almost died of fright when they watched _Aliens_.

"Be my guest. If you wanna try to wake him up, that is. Sumbitch is hard to get out of bed. Like a zombie in the morning. What's your name?"

"Aurea, Sir."

He stood aside, motioning toward Coughlin's bunk. Aurea bowed, then walked over to it. She pulled the sheets he had hung around his bunk back, revealing a sleeping Coughlin, burrowed into his sheets. She pushed him lightly, trying to wake him.

"Bugger off." He mumbled.

He didn't open his eyes, turning over and wrapping the sheets more tightly around himself. Aurea didn't relent, though. She began to push harder.

"Come on, Coughlin! Wake up!" She said.

"Geroff me." He replied, shifting slightly under the covers.

Aurea placed her hands on her hips and glared at his sleeping form.

"Told ya. Move over." Santiago said.

Aurea did as she was told. Santiago walked over to Aurea, standing next to her. He looked at Coughlin and then swiftly pulled the blanket down to his chest. Coughlin glared daggers at him.

"Wake the fuck up. Ya got a visitor." Santiago said.

"Feck off." Coughlin replied.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it over himself once more and rolled over.

"Get up."

"No."

"Get up!" Aurea joined in.

"No!"

"Get up get up get up!" The two chanted in unison.

"FINE!" Coughlin said.

He sat up and glared at the two. He looked like he had definitely had a rough night. His hair was unkempt and messy and his eyes were bloodshot. He'd forgotten to shave the last few days, so the stubble was getting out of hand as well.

"What's it you want?" He grumbled.

He motioned for them to move aside, and when they did so he stood up and walked over to his locker. He wasn't as modestly dressed as Santiago was, simply wearing a pair of boxer shorts. Aurea looked up and down his figure. She blushed lightly as she took in his physique. He was just as strong-looking as many of the other Ones in Gray, but he had tattoos on his upper arms and back. She saw that a lot of the other Ones in Gray had tattoos, but they never told her why. One of them on his right upper arm was of a dagger with wings. Over the dagger was a banner with words on it, but she couldn't read what it said. She didn't know the language it was written in.

"Coughlin..." She said, covering her mouth in shock.

"What?" He asked, turning around to look at her.

He had more tattoos on his chest. The one that stood out the most on was of a crown. The tattoo wasn't too large, but compared to the simple designs of many of the others it was the most detailed. The crown was was backed by a set of crossed swords. Some manner of beast, which was also wearing a crown, stood upon it. Underneath it were a set of words. She knew what they said as they were, much to her surprise, from the tongue of the nobles. She, just like the rest of the maids, had been trained in some of it.

Ready for anything.

That's what it said. She, of course, not knowing what it meant thought it was just something that related to the other tattoos.

The tattoo on the inside of his left forearm on the other hand was much simpler in its design. It was of a gravestone with a cross emblazoned on it. On it were multiple words which she assumed were names, next to sets of numbers.

"Were... you a slave?" She asked.

"What?" He asked, his voice rising slightly at the absurdity of her question. He raised one of his eyebrows.

 _What the hell brought this question up?_

"You have tattoos. Only slaves have tattoos." She explained.

"No! I wasn't a bloody slave! Got most of these when I was in the service. Soldiers don't get tattoos here?"

"No. At least not soldiers from the Empire. Only slaves."

"Huh. Fuckin' weird, that's what that is. So what's it you wanted?"

Santiago interrupted, walking over to Coughlin.

"Bud I got a lot of shit to do today. You got this covered?" He whispered.

"Yeah. See ya later." He replied.

Santiago waved goodbye to Aurea before heading back to his bed, getting his kit ready for the day. Coughlin turned away from Aurea and back to his locker. He began getting dressed, throwing on his uniform pants and an undershirt, along with a pair of socks. After getting dressed, he reached into a wooden box under his bed and pulled out a rosary. It was made entirely of sterling silver, with a crucifix instead of a simple cross. He placed it around his neck. He then turned back to Aurea, intent on hearing what she had to say.

"So... you told me you'd answer my questions." She answered.

"Uhh... Could you remind me what it was you asked about?" He stalled.

"I asked you about your world."

He ran a hand through his hair. Why did she have to ask such a broad question? He thought for a moment on what he could tell her about.

 _Fuck._

He scoured his brain but he couldn't think of anything that would interest her.

"What's it you wanna know about?" He asked.

He hoped that she had something on her mind. He knew _he_ didn't.

"Uhh..."

She looked down, lost in thought. A moment later, she looked back at Coughlin.

"What's it like on the other side of the gate?" She asked.

He sighed, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Too broad. Narrow it down." Coughlin said.

"Umm... did you know the other Ones in Gray before this?" Aurea asked.

She looked around the room. They were all still asleep, save for Cohen, who waved at her as he got ready for the day. She smiled and waved back. Santiago was nowhere to be found, most likely having left the barracks already.

"I've only been with the company for about nine months now. To be honest, I'm fuckin' surprised they selected me for this. I'm sure there's better people. I didn't really know a lot of these guys save for my old captain and Abrams. You ain't met him yet. You'd like him I think."

"Who's Abrams?" She asked.

He reached into one his pockets and pulled out his phone, an Android Galaxy S13. He scrolled through the photos until he found one. It was of him and Abrams, when he forced him to accompany him to Jamaica. They were both smiling, with them wearing contrasting polo shirts, Abram's blue contrasting Coughlin's red.

"Friend of mine. We go way back. We joined the Army and then the SAS together. You'll be meeting him soon enough, I'd bet. Should be getting out of the hospital soon. I think I told you about my time with him." He answered.

"No. You didn't." She replied.

"I didn't? Want me to tell you?"

"Sure."

He walked over to a table, motioning for her to sit.

"When me and Abrams were done with school we joined the British Army. They're pretty fuckin' badass, and the SAS are twice as so. After a few years we decided to try to get in when we met the requirements, and we fuckin' did! See, the SAS do secret shit all the time, and that was our first kind of mission. There's this thing called biochemical warfare. Horrible stuff. Just horrible." He said.

"What do they do?" She asked.

"Imagine this: an orange mist with little bits of orange dust floating in it. You breathe it in and you suddenly can't breathe. No matter how hard you try, you can't. Fucking. Breathe. Then, you fall over and choke to death, covered in that fucking orange dust. That's what we were after."

She looked at him, her eyes widening in horror. She thought of herself tearing at her throat, trying to breathe, but ultimately just collapsing.

 _How, in the gods names, could their world have something so..._

She looked down, at the table. She thought of people using this on each other in Coughlin's world. Of people thinking it was **acceptable** to use it.

 _So horrid?_

She collected her thoughts, trying to focus back on the conversation.

"Did... did they make it? Is that why you were trying to stop them?" She asked.

"The guys we were after didn't make it. They got it from someone else. _Those_ sons-a-bitches tested it at a university. A fuckin' school!" He answered.

He held his head in his hands.

"We spent a fuckin' month tracking these shits across the sandbox. They were trying to get it to Jerusalem, where Cohen's from. They were gonna set a shit-ton of it off near a holy site. We stopped em', but we lost a lot of good people in the process."

His face hardened, his brow furrowing and mouth turning to a scowl.

"We lost too many fucking people. Too many goddamned good men. Too many that _I_ knew."

He held up one finger.

"Lost Tom for one. That's one too fucking many right there. The U.S. lost a few too but I never knew the guys."

"Tom?"

Aurea leaned in closer, her eyes focusing on Coughlin.

"Another buddy of mine. We'd cornered some of them at a compound, just a house or two with some walls surrounding em'. Out in the middle of the fuckin' desert, it was. Way too bloody far from civilization but on it's way to Israel still. Mission was to wipe out the enemy and call in the bio-warfare guys to get the shit. They detonated a canister of the shit when we pushed em' back. The hallway's dark, only lit by our torches, hear a woosh, then a wave of orange mist comes racing toward us. The seal on Tom's mask was faulty. The thing kept us from breathing the shit in. That's all it took. We never thought they'd kill themselves like that. Didn't care if they died in the process, just that they killed us with them. Dragged him out, but they couldn't save him. He..."

"He what?"

"He just... Kept coughing. Eventually he started coughing up blood and that was it. No saving him."

He looked away from Aurea and out into the courtyard, his eyes glazing over as he reminisced.

"It rained during his funeral. Halfway through. Thank god it did otherwise Abrams would've seen me start to tear up like the fuckin' pansy I am. Kept a stiff upper lip through it all, though. Tom would've wanted it that way. Told us if he got axed not to shed a tear about it, lest he kick our asses from beyond the grave. He knew the risks. We all did."

He trailed off. His voice was soft now, softer than Aurea had ever heard or would have thought it could go. She looked away, trying to think of something, anything she could say to console him, but she was at a loss. When she looked back, she saw that his eyes had begun to water. This wasn't the Coughlin she knew. This wasn't the Coughlin that she had befriended so quickly.

She had to fix this.

Aurea took his right hand in hers. She could feel the callouses, the roughness of his hands. Her touch drew him back to the world, him looking at her curiously.

"I want you to come with me. Please." She said.

"Umm... Alright. Let, uh, let me get something." He said, wiping his eyes.

He got up and walked over to his locker once more, pulling out a few things. His pistol holster and a small bundle. The bundle was dark blue, made of some sort of synthetic material, with a cord wrapped around the middle of it. A small, plastic, rounded handle stuck out of the bottom of the bundle. On his way back, he also reached under his pillow and pulled out his Sig.

Aurea didn't bother with that. She didn't know how those things they carried worked and she didn't care. She'd seen what they did to the bandits during the siege so she knew they had danger written all over them. What interested her more on the other hand was the blue bundle. She looked at it quizzically, leaning in to get a better look at it.

"What is that?" She asked, pointing at it.

"Umbrella. For the rain." He answered.

"Umbrella?" She asked.

"Thing that'll stop the rain from getting on us."

"How? It's tiny."

"Let's go out first. Bad luck to open one of these indoors."

Coughlin walked over to the coat rack, throwing on his old jacket. It fit loosely, but that was how it was designed. He pulled up the hood then handed Aurea her cloak. When Coughlin opened the door he looked out. The rainstorm had calmed and had changed from a thunderstorm to a light drizzle. He had unfastened the cord around the umbrella, it hanging loosely from the handle. He motioned for Aurea to exit first.

"Ladies first." He said, smirking.

She exited, with Coughlin following closely behind. He pressed the button on the handle of the umbrella. The head unfurled and stopped the downpour from bothering them. Aurea looked at it in wonder.

"So where's it you wanted to go?" He asked.

She took his hand in hers and led him toward the gate of the manor, not saying a word about their destination.

* * *

Moore stood on to the balcony connected to his room. He rested his hands on the railing, leaning into it as he looked out over the town. It, like him, was waking up and getting ready for the day ahead of them.

 _What I wouldn't give for a cigarette right now._

He shook the thought out of his mind. He'd promised Clara he'd start smoking less once Melissa was born. That, along with a lung cancer scare in 2019 had made sure he had stopped smoking entirely.

 _Not gonna let Melissa grow up an orphan._

A gust of wind buffeted Moore, causing him to shiver. He returned to his room, walking over to his little group of pill bottles. He opened them and shook a pill from each into a small saucer. Mohmu had left it in her haste last night. With two of the maids being recruited, her and Aurea had been working double time. It showed with the occasional mistake they would make, but then apologize profusely for. He took each of them with a gulp of water from a pitcher. He walked over to his armoire, one of the doors open, the shirt and pants of his combat uniform visible. He donned them and his holster. He walked back over to his bed and reached under a pillow, drawing out one of the .45's. He'd walked out of his room, making his way to the countess's. He was met by the head maid, who raised her hand to stop him.

"Kaine." He greeted.

"Sir Moore." She replied.

"The countess is preparing for the day. I ask that you wait until she is finished dressing to speak with her." She said.

He'd gotten to know her over the last week. He'd made sure to listen to what she had to say. He didn't want to anger the head of the maids here, since they took care of him and his men. He stood next to her, waiting for the countess to finish getting prepared.

"Hell of a storm this morning." He said.

The two didn't make eye contact. The countess could leave her chambers at any moment and they had to be ready to listen to her plans for the day.

"You are quite correct, Sir Moore." She replied.

"Rainy season?"

"More than that. This is a most holy of times for citizens of the Empire."

"Like religious holidays?"

"There is a festival swiftly approaching. The festival of Argei to be precise. I trust that you and your comrades will be in attendance?"

"Anything I should know about?"

"Be prepared for a long walk. Along with that, you are the closest thing to a praetor here at the moment. You are expected to take part in the ceremonies."

"Don't know what I'm getting myself into but yeah, I'll take part."

"I'm quite relieved to hear that, Sir Moore."

"I guess the Countess would be mad if I didn't attend?"

"More than mad."

"Yikes."

"Exactly."

The door opened, with Myui exiting first, followed by a pair of maids who quickly made themselves scarce. Moore and Kaine followed, keeping closely to Myui as she spoke to them.

"Miss Kaine, I ask that you send the workers home once they have finished their morning duties." She stated.

"As you wish, Countess." She responded.

She left their company, heading down a hallway.

"Sir Moore, I ask that you refrain from training your militia today. There is a religious festival approaching."

"Already on it, Miss." He replied.

"Good to hear."

The two of them made their way into the dining room. The table was lavishly decorated, even if they were to have a simple breakfast. They each took their seats, with Myui sitting at the head of the table and Moore sitting to her left. Their breakfast, which consisted of fresh bread, accompanied by meat and fish, cheese, fresh fruit and vegetables. Moore watched as Myui poured an amber-colored liquid from a small clay jug onto a split bread roll. When she noticed Moore watching her, she smiled.

"Would you care for some garum, Sir Moore?" She asked.

She shook the jug slightly. Moore nodded. She passed it to him and he poured some of it on a cut of meat. He'd taken a liking to it during his time in this world. When he had asked about it, he was told that garum was a very common condiment, popular throughout the Empire. He'd first tried it at the behest of one of the waitresses at the Alnus tavern. To him, it was similar to soy sauce, at least in the way it added flavor to certain foods.

"So what's this holiday about?" Moore asked.

"You know of it already?" She asked.

"Yeah. Kaine told me about it. I'm something called a Praetor around here, right?"

"You're the equivalent."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"To be honest: I don't know. You would most likely have to speak to the Head Priestess of Emroy if you wanted to know more. Also, I know that this is completely off topic but I would like to know more about the plans for the militia."

Myui took a sip of her wine. Moore looked away.

 _Kid that young shouldn't be drinking._

"We've got a whole plan in place. A name too. How does the 'Italica Security Force' or 'ISF' sound?" He explained.

"Hmm. The 'ISF'. I like the sound of that. Will they be assisting you?" She asked.

"Yeah. We're spread thin. Real thin. The new arrivals from the surrounding villages have made it harder to police the populace. They'll probably be kind of like the police force at Alnus."

Moore looked at his watch. His eyes widened when he saw the time.

"I'm running a bit behind schedule, Countess. I must apologize, but I'll have to leave. I hope to see you later today." He explained.

"Very well Sir Moore. I expect to see you at the North Gate later today. The festival itself doesn't start until one hour before Vigila Prima." She replied.

"Uhh..." He started.

"An hour before, what is it you call it... 'Sunset'? I believe that's what you call it." She explained.

"Now that makes more sense. I'll see you there. Have a good day, Myui."

* * *

The two had been walking for quite some time now. They'd barely run into anyone along the way, too. That was what creeped Coughlin out the most about this. Usually, the town was absolutely bustling with activity by now. They'd made it to the east gate before Coughlin placed a hand on Aurea's shoulder, stopping her and causing her to turn around.

"You still ain't told me where it is we're going." He said.

"Do you really need to know?" She asked.

"I'd bloody well like to!"

She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him. She sighed. Her gaze softened, and she squeezed his wrist.

"I'm sorry that I brought up those bad memories." She said.

"Ain't your fault. You didn't know." He replied.

"There's a place I want to show you. If I can, I go there when I'm sad. When I'm there, it helps make me happy again. Maybe it'll do the same for you."

"Maybe it will."

"So you want to keep going?"

"Yep. Let's get a move on."

The two continued on their way, heading through the east gate. They followed the Appia Highway until they reached a small path jutting off from it's side. It was there that the two stopped. Coughlin looked at Aurea in confusion, while she simply smiled at him, her hands behind her back.

"Why're we stopping?" Coughlin asked.

"It's a surprise. Keep your eyes closed until we get there."

She took him by the hand once more, leading him further along the path. Coughlin had did as she asked and had closed his eyes, keeping them shut the whole way. After some time Aurea stopped, Coughlin stopping as well.

"This the place?" He asked.

"Yes. You can open your eyes now." She replied.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't on the path anymore. He was standing on a grassy cliff that overlooked the fields outside the east gate. There wasn't anyone working them right now, which he found strange. The rain had stopped completely on their way here and the clouds had begun to part, the sun peeking out of the clouds, shining on the east gate. It gave the scene a beauty that Coughlin had never seen when he had looked at the battle-worn gate. The JSDF, as another token of friendship to Clan Formar, had replaced the doors to the East Gate, even going so far as having their engineers reinforce it along with the other three gates. For all intents and purposes, Italica was almost impenetrable now, at least if the invaders tried to just smash the gates in.

"Bloody hell."

That was all he could say. He looked at Aurea. She smiled at him. She knew what he was thinking.

"Italica is pretty, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yep." He replied.

"I came to Italica when I was small. It seemed scary at first, since it was so big and I was alone, but then I met Count Formar. He showed me that the people here are good. It's the place I want to live until I depart from this world."

"Really? What about during the siege?"

" _Especially_ during the siege!"

She advanced on him and took his hands in hers once more, her conviction evident enough for Coughlin to make it out.

"The people banded together to fight them off, even if it meant their doom in the process. To be honest, I wished I could have helped more. Myui forbade us from getting involved outside of supporting the defenders. We weren't to get involved in the fighting."

Coughlin walked closer to the edge of the cliff, letting go of Aurea's hands. Aurea began to get worried once more. What would Coughlin do? She didn't know. When he reached the edge of the cliff, he looked out, over the fields of Italica, to the East Gate. The sun really was shining on it beautifully, as if it knew that this exact moment would come.

 _A fella really could get used to this place._

He sat down, crossing his legs. He motioned for Aurea to join him. She walked over, sitting down next to him. The two looked out at the scene before them, the two of them feeling relaxed, and in Coughlin's case, happy.

"Anything else you want to know about?" He asked.

His voice was cheerier now. Aurea breathed a sigh of relief. This was the Coughlin she knew. The one she wanted to know for a long time.

"I don't want to bring up any more bad memories." She replied.

"I don't think you gotta worry about that happening here."

* * *

Moore walked through the streets of Italica, passing by the meager amount of people who were on the streets. Normally, the city would be bustling, what with the amount of people who had immigrated there in the last few months.

Since the Japanese had secured the area around Italica, the place had become a beacon of hope for the people who lived in the surrounding settlements. Anyone who had survived the raids from the bandits had moved to Italica, causing a small "boomtown" to arise in one of the depleted fields outside Italica.

It wasn't much. More of a tent city than anything else, but they wanted to be a part of the new Italica and Moore didn't have it in him to tell them to leave. He'd spoken with the Japanese about it and as long as his men policed there too they wouldn't have to force them to move. He was glad they didn't make him do it since the immigrants didn't actually cause as much trouble as they had anticipated.

They interacted with his men well. They must have thought of them as being from the same land as the Japanese and so they showed them the respect that they would have showed them. Moore made sure that his men treated them the same. Hell, some of them even tried to get them to marry their daughters. Moore shot that down rather quickly, though.

He rounded a corner, walking into a square in which a large temple was situated. It took up most of the square, with houses crammed both to the left and right of it. Compared to the rest of the city, this area was much more populated. The temple was... foreboding to say the least.

The place didn't fit in well with the rest of the town. The stone wasn't it's natural color, looking to be painted a deep black that caught almost caught the sunlight. The bright red tapestries hanging in the windows didn't help with making the place feel like a welcoming establishment.

This didn't stop the people there from going in. Many of them looked absolutely ecstatic, at least from what Moore could see of them. A long line had formed at the double doors, with a line of people. The line slowly but surely filed in, while the other door had people exiting.

He walked over, taking his place in line. The people in front of him hadn't noticed him yet, so they continued to speak to each other. Moore couldn't help but listen in.

"-About the fields. The ramein crop is coming in nicely." The one in front of him said.

He was one of the beastfolk. Canine in appearance, he looked somewhere between a fox and a wolf, if Moore had to take a guess. He was quite tall, standing a few heads taller than Moore. He leaned around him, wanting to see who he was talking to. It was a dwarf. He could tell from how short he was, along with the slightly pointed ears and a lengthy, impressive beard.

"Got a commission from the Gray Ones: an order o' crossbows. Come to the right smith, they did! I'll give em' the most accurate in the bloody region!" The dwarf said.

The dwarf hadn't noticed Moore, but the canine did. His face went from one of elation to surprise. The dwarf saw this, and he turned around, wondering what it was his compatriot had seen. His face brightened at the sight of Moore.

"Sir Moore! Ain't this a pleasant surprise! What's it ya got with the temple of Emroy?" He asked.

"I'm supposed to take part in the ceremony. Apparently I'm something called a 'praetor'." He answered.

The two Italicans looked at each other. The two nodded to each other and smiled as if they had made some sort of unspoken agreement. The canine turned around, cupping his hands over his muzzle.

"MAKE WAY FOR THE PRAETOR OF ITALICA! HE SEEKS AUDIENCE WITH THE HEAD PRIESTESS OF EMROY!" He shouted.

His voice reverberated, causing the people in front of him to turn in surprise and shock. Moore stumbled back. That dog sure had a set of lungs on him. Moore hesitated, at a loss of what to do, then he felt someone push him forward. He turned his head and saw it was the dwarf.

"Ya said ya got business with the temple?! Yer a praetor! Ya don't have to wait!" He said.

The line moved aside as he was pushed in. One moment he was moving rapidly toward the door, the next minute he was on his stomach in the building, the doors shutting swiftly behind him.

The walls were just as dark as the outside, with lines of red going along the walls near the ceiling and floor. The pews were simple, just being a simple bench, all facing a podium and altar, both hewn from a dark stone that gleamed in the sunlight. The smell of incense hung in the air, but it wasn't a pleasant smell. To Moore, it smelled like they were burning some kind of herb in large amounts, giving the place a terribly strong odor akin to as if one burned sage.

Along the walls, built into alcoves were small idols, each looking exactly the same: some manner of winged serpent was coiled around the handles of a set of intricately carved halberds, looking similar to the one used by that apostle. On a small spike on the top of each idol was a red candle, with each one lit. At each idol, a group of citizens were praying. Their heads bowed and their hands clasped. Each one was being led in prayer by a priestess or priest of Emroy. Many of the clergy were girls or young women, all sporting the same attire as what Rory had worn when they had met. There were a few young men, but they wore a set of robes, dyed red and black: the colors of Emroy.

At the altar stood an older woman. She looked, if Moore had to guess, somewhere in her late sixties. Her hair was shock white and went to her chest, her skin tanned and wrinkled with age. What stood out to Moore the most were her eyes.

They didn't look like she was just sixty. As stood up and walked over, they maintained eye contact. Her eyes spoke of someone who had lived multiple lifetimes in one, someone that had seen the worst that this world had to offer and still managed to live through it all. She didn't wear the outfit the priestesses wore, instead wearing a robe similar to the priests, but with a cowl resting atop her head.

The two looked at each other for a few moments, then Moore broke the silence.

"You must be the Head Priestess." He said.

"And you must be Nathan Moore." She replied.

"Yep."

The Head Priestess smiled, then motioned for Moore to follow her. She walked through the passage behind her. Moore followed behind, keeping his hand on his sidearm.

"You needn't worry. There is no danger here." She said.

She hadn't even looked behind. Moore took his hand off his sidearm, letting it hang at his side as the two walked.

Eventually, they reached a chamber in the back of the temple. It was spacious and empty, save for a stone bowl set in a small stand in the middle of the chamber. Along the walls were sconces, each set with a bushel of some kind of herb.

"Please, Praetor: Approach the altar." She said.

She motioned to the bowl. Moore did as she said. He watched as she walked around the room, lighting each bushel of herbs as she did so. When she was finished, she joined Moore at the altar.

"The festival of Argei is more than just a festival. It is a day to give thanks to the gods for their benevolence and guidance. Here in Italica, Emroy is the chief god, with Wareharun falling second."

The chamber began to fill with the smoke from the herb. Moore looked at the Priestess, his face clearly showed worry.

"You needn't worry. The smoke won't hurt you. It will only help you in preparation for Argei." She assured, smiling.

The smoke was surprisingly easy to breathe through, considering how thick and acrid it was. Moore watched as the chamber began to fill with smoke, watched as it rose to the ceiling and stayed there. He thought that he saw shapes within the smoke, but he shook that out of his mind.

Moore had never been much for religion when he was young, just going to church with his mother on occasion. Any faith he had in a higher power was stamped out after his first deployment, though. This ambivalence was reaffirmed and shaped with each successive deployment that followed his first. He didn't know for certain if there were beings of divine power in his world, but with what he had seen, he hoped to never meet them. They wouldn't like to hear what he thought of them.

As the chamber continued to fill with smoke, Moore's hesitation turned to resignation. He'd chosen to be a part of the ceremony, so he'd have to stick it out to the bitter end.

 _This is gonna be fuckin' weird, isn't it?_

The room had quickly filled with smoke, and the Priestess returned to Moore. She stood across from him, on the other side of the bowl. He could see what was in the bowl now. It was some kind of liquid. He couldn't make out the other contents of the bowl, as the cloudiness of the liquid, along with smoke somewhat obscuring his vision, made it hard for him to see even a foot in front of his face. He could only make out the Priestess because of her outline in the smoke.

"Please extend your hand, over the altar. Remove your glove as well." She said.

Her outline motioned to the bowl. Moore did as she asked.

From one of her sleeves she drew a knife. It wasn't large, being about as long as her hand, but it's blade looked wickedly sharp.

"Uhh..." Moore started.

"For Emroy, bloodletting is seen as a just offering from someone in your profession. I will cut the back of your hand and give Emroy what is his." She explained.

 _Too late to back out. Deal with it, Nathan._ He thought.

The crone grabbed Moore's wrist and drew the blade across the back of his hand. He gritted his teeth, sucking in air as she did. The woman took his hand and submerged it in the liquid. It stung to hell and back, but Moore grit his teeth and dealt with it. After a moment, the liquid had reddened with his blood, and the woman let go of his arm.

"It is done." She stated.

"That's it? No slaughtering an animal and reading it's guts or anything?" He asked, taking his hand out of the water.

"We're not barbaric, Praetor."

He smirked at that.

"If you say so. Anything else I should do?"

"Yes. There is one more thing before we are finished: pray before the altar. Pray to Emroy."

He got on his knees, closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. It'd been too long since he had prayed last, almost twenty-four years, in fact. He'd just have to wing it. He didn't know if there were gods watching over Earth, but after meeting Rory he was sure there were ones watching _**them**_. If he could have helped it he would rather not piss them off.

 _Uhh, Emroy? You there? It's Nathan Moore. I'm, uh, I'm one of the people who came through the gate._

He wasn't saying it aloud. He thought back to when he would go to church with his mother. According to the preacher there, God could hear you praying even if you weren't saying it aloud. He hoped Emroy could hear him too.

 _I've got to talk to you right now for Argei. Hope you can hear me. Met your apostle. Nice girl, if you get past almost everything about her. Don't know if you're willing to do this or not, but think you can watch out for me and my guys out there? Thank you for your guidance and all that. Sorry. It's been a good long while since I prayed last._

He stood up, opened his eyes and dusted his pant legs off. Much to Moore's surprise, the smoke had cleared almost entirely. He looked around the room, at the blackened bushels still upon the walls and at the altar, whose water had changed color once more. It was no longer reddened with his blood, but back to it's original state, being just a bowl of cloudy water.

"I uh, think I prayed to em'." He said, looking at the Priestess.

"I know, for he has listened." She replied.

"What'cha say?" He asked.

"He has listened. Emroy always hears the prayers of his followers. Take this truth to heart, Preator, for when the hour is most dire, Emroy shall light the way. Now follow me. I shall explain the rites of the Praetor."

Moore didn't respond. This was fuckin' weird and he didn't want to be a part of it any longer. The Priestess walked to the door and motioned for him to follow.

He did as she commanded, following her out the door and leaving the strange room behind.

* * *

A column of Japanese vehicles sped down the Appia highway. It was mostly made up of Mitsubishi Type Seventy-Threes and Toyota HMV's, but at both the front and back of the column was a Komatsu LAV. In one of the HMV's near the front of the column sat a man. He was an older gentleman, rather short, standing at around a little over five-foot-four, and most likely in his early to mid fifties. He wore his salt and pepper hair in a ponytail, his beard being braided. Compared to many of the other correspondents here, he looked quite out of place. While the rest had opted to wear their sunday best, he had chosen a much more... casual approach.

The man wore an A-2 flight jacket over his button-up shirt. The brown leather worn, especially near the edges, and here and there a patch was sewn on.

"We will be arriving at Italica shortly. Please keep track of your equipment. We don't want you to lose anything important." A girl said into her radio handset.

She returned her handset to it's resting place. When he had met her, she was said to be one of the people kidnapped by the Empire during the initial invasion of Ginza. More than just Japanese had been kidnapped, and the world was clamoring to know of their whereabouts as well.

Out of the fifty known missing persons related to the Ginza Incident, only one had been found as of yet: Noriko Mochizuki. She was the coordinator of their little foray into this new world.

She looked like she was ready for this. He could tell. He'd covered enough wars to know how she felt.

The man, Mochizuki and the driver weren't the only ones in this particular HMV. Along with them were the media team from Japan. One of them raised her hand to ask a question.

"Mochizuki-san! Is there any way we can speak with the mercenaries?"

Her voice had a cheerful tone to it, like she was the happiest girl there.

Nanami Kuribayashi. That's what it said on her tag. God knows how someone that young had wormed their way in here. He took hold of his own tag, turning it around on it's lanyard so he could look at it once more.

Jonathan Richter, war correspondent and reporter for TIME Magazine.

"Yes. I believe that they have been notified of our arrival. Kuribayashi-san. Considering their status among the populace, you should have no trouble with the locals if you accompany them around the city. I will be coordinating the teams from the manor of clan Formar. Do not lose your handheld transceivers or the list of frequencies you were given." Noriko explained.

"Handheld transceiver?" One of the camera crew asked.

"A walkie-talkie." Richter answered.

His voice was gruff, with a very thick and very noticeable german accent.

The man was caught off guard by his answer. Richter hadn't talked much on the way over, simply introducing himself once before they set out from Alnus then dozing off until they were about halfway there.

"Umm... Thank you?" The man said.

"You're welcome." He replied.

The HMV stopped. Richter leaned forward so he could look out the windshield. It was a fruitless action since the Komatsu was in the way, but he saw a blond-haired man, wearing gray fatigues, walking toward their HMV.

 _Must be one of the PMCs._

He walked over to Noriko's window, she having preemptively rolled down the window so they could speak.

"Noriko Mochizuki? Good to finally meet you." He said.

The two shook hands. Moore had heard about this girl, what she had went through. He hoped he never had to meet the prince. He'd need his team to hold him back if he did. To him, the fact that she had decided to stay here, to help the Japanese in their efforts here, took a lot of courage.

"We aren't intruding, are we?" Noriko asked.

"Nah. Just park out here and you can come inside. The SDF fine with guarding the vehicles while I take you to the manor?"

Noriko looked at the driver, who nodded in agreement. He got on the radio to speak to the other members of his unit. Noriko turned to the other passengers.

"We have arrived at Italica. Please disembark while the SDF go about parking the vehicles." She ordered.

Richter and the other passengers did as she told them, getting out and walking over to the ajar gate. Richter inspected this Moore fellow as he spoke with Noriko. He didn't have the look of any PMC he'd ever seen before, almost entirely due to his choice of attire.

When the two stopped speaking, they walked over to Richter and the Japanese team. They stood near the gate with them, watching the line of international reporters file over. It took them some time, with many of the cameramen loaded down with gear.

He adjusted the backpack he had slung over his shoulder. He hadn't brought much of anything with him. In his backpack were what he considered his essentials, which didn't even weigh him down too much.

When all of the reporters and their crews were there, Moore cleared his throat.

"Alright! I'm Nathan Moore, acting leader for the Bellerose International forces here. We've been given orders to give you all a tour of Italica."

After he had said that, the crews began setting up their equipment. Moore looked at them, then looked at Richter and the Japanese team. They weren't getting prepared like the others.

"Where's _your_ stuff?" He asked.

Richter held up the rather expensive Nikon that hung around his neck and pointed at his backpack.

"Alright." He replied.

They waited until the other teams were ready, then Moore walked into the city, the line of reporters following him. On their way to the manor they would stopped at a square to take a break. Richter looked at his compatriots, many of them ordering their camera crews to record as much b-roll as they could of this new frontier.

"Where's all the people?" Richter asked Moore.

"Holiday right now. They're all either at church or resting." He replied.

He saw a pair of humanoids, so he zoomed in to get a better look at them. They stood outside a house, talking and occasionally looking at his group. When his camera focused, his eyes widened in surprise.

 _Talking bear-like things that walk upright? AND wear clothes?_

He took multiple photos of them.

"Hmm. Interesting."

The walk to the manor was quiet. The journalists focused their cameras on anything that moved. Moore shook his head. He remembered how these people were. He had some fond memories of his battalion's embedded journalist when they invaded Iraq. Two-thousand three seemed so long ago now. At times, he still thought back to that time, comparing it to now. Who would've thought he'd be here, of all places?

They reached the high walls that surrounded the manor, making straight for it's gate. They could hear two people speaking on the other side. The reporters couldn't understand, since many of them never bothered to learn the language of the Special Region, but Moore and Noriko knew what was being said. Even Richter could pick up some of it.

"Wermut, you're out of step!"

"Laspinger! The spear goes on your right shoulder!"

"For the love of god! Stop stop stop!"

Moore opened the gate, with him entering first, followed by the reporters. In the courtyard, the troops had been assembled. The ISF were standing in formation, with Santiago and Cohen drilling them. The ISF were wielding spears and practicing how to march in formation. They didn't look like they had before. Back then, they only had cloth tunics and leather breeches as their uniforms, but that had changed.

Each of them wore a steel breastplate over their tunics, along with a helm, with modifications being put in place for the non-humans of the ISF. The main ones being the holes in the helms for their ears. As they continued to march, one of them had fallen out of step. He was young, probably the youngest in the ISF. He stumbled and fell into the mud.

"Wermut!" Cohen shouted.

He walked over to him, kneeling down. Wermut looked up at him. Cohen grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him to his feet, then reached down and picked up his spear.

Wermut nodded. Cohen handed him the spear and he got back in formation, behind Laspinger and in front of Mamina.

"Start on the right foot!" Cohen shouted.

"Yes Sir!" The formation responded, in perfect unison.

Moore turned to the reporters, who had been filming the scene. He cleared his throat.

"The SDF have tasked us with training a militia to assist them in protecting the city of Italica and the Countess Myui." He explained.

Nanami raised her hand.

"Mister Moore! Will we have the chance to meet the Countess?" She asked.

"I'm going to speak to her about it now. If you want, you can ask my men about the ISF." He answered.

He pointed to Cohen and Santiago.

"If you have any questions about em' they're the ones to go to."

The reporters jumped on his suggestion. Many of the teams walked over to them, bombarding them with questions. Moore quickly made his leave, heading for the great hall. Richter noticed Moore enter through the side door of the manor. He looked around. He noticed that the others were busy with the two other contractors. He quickly walked after Moore, entering the manor himself.

"Mister Moore!" He called down the hallway.

Moore turned to greet him as he walked over.

"What?" He asked.

"I was wondering if I could have an interview with the Countess."

Moore crossed his arms, scowling at Richter.

"No. Wait for the press conference." He explained.

Richter smirked.

"Thought I'd try. No harm done?" He asked.

Moore's expression softened.

"Nah. I'll talk to the Countess, see if she wants to speak." Moore replied.

The two nodded at each before parting ways. Richter walked into the foyer, as he could reach it from the hall. He took in the architecture, seeing how regal the place felt. To him, it reminded him of some of the German Manors he'd visited while researching for an article on World War Two. He snapped a few photos and then left through the main entrance. There was still much to see in this new world, and he would not restrict himself to just one place if he could get away with it.

* * *

Moore knocked on the door to the study.

"Countess?" He asked.

"Yes?" She said, her voice muffled by the door.

"May I come in? I need to speak to you about something."

"You may enter!"

He did as she said, pushing the heavy wooden door inward. She was sitting there, at her late father's desk, poring over his documents. She'd removed her tiara, it being placed on top of a small, intricately carved wooden jewelry box. She looked up from the clutter and at Moore.

"Please, Sir Moore: take a seat." She said.

She motioned to one of the two chairs facing the desk, and he took as seat on one of them.

"Alright, we've got a bunch of people called 'Journalists' here today. They've been let through the gate from our world to learn about your world, then tell the people on our side about it. They want to know if you would be willing to be interviewed by them." He explained.

"I'm willing to." She replied.

She picked up one of the scrolls, unfurled it, and began to pore through it.

"Uhh..." He looked away, trying to hide his surprise.

"I thought you'd say no. Alright! I'll let them know. Are you sure? They'll be writing everything you say down." Moore finished.

"I'm sure, Sir Moore. From how you explained them to me, what they do sound akin to the gazettes that are distributed in Sadera. If these people bring the news, I'm more than willing to cooperate with them. I'll speak the truth, and nothing but the truth." She replied, not looking up from her scroll.

"Alright. I'll let them know. It'll probably be in an hour or so. I'll try to cram em' all into the great hall."

"You do that, Sir Moore. I trust your judgement."

"I'll be leaving now."

"Yes, yes."

He stood up and left the study, slowly closing the door behind him. As he walked back to the courtyard, his thoughts began to drift to Myui.

 _Wish she didn't have to grow up so fast. No kid should have to do what she's doing. Ain't right at all._

Sometimes he saw himself in her shoes. To keep his household afloat he had to grow up fast as well. He thought back to the many times they were without something important like water or power. At the time, he always told himself he'd never go through this again. He'd rise above. When he thought about it, he was kind of right in a way.

When he reached the side door again, he peered through the nearby window. The journalists were watching the ISF, them having moved from the formation training to sparring. He watched as Persia and Mamina were facing off against one another. He opened the door and walked up next to Richter, who had positioned his video camera to record the two soldiers.

"They're probably the best out of all of em'." Moore commented.

He watched as Mamina ducked under Persia's sword blow, the blunted blade just barely missing her ears. Persia, in response, jumped back, trying to reposition herself. Mamina used this to her advantage, lunging forward and sending her practice dagger into Persia's side swiftly, it folding in on itself harmlessly. Persia fell, landing on her back in the dirt.

"Alright! Wermut! Laspinger! You two now! Subdual techniques!" Santiago shouted.

The two relaxed, then Mamina reached out for Persia, who took her hand, with Mamina helping her to her feet. The two smiled at each other.

"We take turns with the training. Most of em' were some sort of warrior or soldier before this so we don't have much trouble. The best thing is how quickly they all came together. Apparently the Empire, at least from what I've been told, isn't the best when it comes to esprit de corps." Moore explained.

"So you're trying to change that?" Richter asked.

"Yep. I think it's working, since they started hanging around each other when not training." Moore answered.

"They're going to be soldiers?"

"Ehh..."

Moore shrugged.

"That's for the Japanese to decide. I still think they'd be better as a police force more than anything. Some of the guys in Strike Two were law enforcement so I got them teaching em' about excessive force and all that."

They watched as the young man who had fallen had been restrained by a man twice his size. The Young Man struggled valiantly, but he couldn't break free of his counterpart's vice-like grip. One of the members of Strike Two began explaining how to break up a fight.

"Excessive force, huh?" Richter said.

He shot Moore a sarcastic look.

"Mountain Man over there was a fuckin' bandit before this, alright? We're straightening em' out." Moore defended.

"I feel like this had been set up before we got here." Richter stated.

"Hell yeah it was! Think we'd let ya walk around free-reign like? Someone'd get stabbed or something and then we'd have to explain _**that**_ to the Japanese." Moore replied.

The two watched as the recruits broke up the demonstration-turned-tussle as cameras flashed around them.

"Not dealing with that today." Moore stated.

* * *

Turnbull looked at the last few rations that they had brought with them. For some reason the deliveries to the palace had stopped, so everyone, including the knights, had begun dipping into the stores of food and water they had brought with them.

"Gonna have to, uh..." He started.

"Ration the rations?" Mick finished.

"Yep."

Turnbull took a drag of his cigar then laughed, the smoke billowing out of his mouth. He never really took a lot of good ones with him. He'd asked his wife to pack quite a few boxes in with his care package: a few boxes of the cheap ones and "the good stuff", as Turnbull had put it.

Louixs. Turnbull liked them, almost as much as the Ghurka Black Dragon. He had a few, exactly four, shipped over from his personal collection.

Turnbull heard footsteps behind them and turned around to see who it was. Dima and Ron were standing at the door, Ambroggio in tow.

"Got a problem." Ron stated.

"What kind of problem?" Turnbull asked.

"Found out why the food stopped comin'. Prince forbade it." Ron answered.

"And just _how_ did you find this out?"

"I had an informant loyal to my family within the palace." Ambroggio piped up.

"Had?" Mick inquired.

"He's dead now." Dima answered.

"Bloody hell." The two Englishmen said in unison.

The two looked at each other before looking back at them.

"So what's the plan, Captain?" Ron asked.

"We're going to ration our supplies and lock down the area until I can patch through to Alnus. Already explained the defense plans to the Roses so we got no problems there. Dima and Ron: I want you two to get Sabra and secure the forest in front of the entrance. We're getting ready for anything now. What's the chances of your former compatriots making their return, Ambroggio?" Turnbull responded.

"Highly likely. If something goes wrong it makes sense to me that any of the remaining doves would flock here. The Oprichnina would be right on their heels, though. I'm sure of that." Ambroggio responded.

"Dima! After securing the area I want you to set up an emplacement facing the entrance to the courtyard, as high as you can bloody get it without getting in Mick's way." Turnbull ordered.

Dima nodded in response.

"Don't know how long we have so get to it." Turnbull said.

The two nodded and then left to do so.

"Mick I want you to set up in the steeple again. Be our eyes." Turnbull ordered.

"Got it." Mick replied.

He went off as well, heading for the staircase that led to the steeple.

"What about me?" Ambroggio asked.

"Tell me which families you know aren't out of the picture." Turnbull ordered.

"The most powerful one is the Tyueli Family. They're very close to the Marquis, who also wants peace. He's the leader of the Senate. After them is the Demera Family and then the Renaldon Family." Ambroggio stated.

"Just those three?"

"That I know of. The Oprichnina have been quite active over the last few days. More active than they should be. The families that aren't in prison already are probably in hiding."

"Shit. You any good with a crossbow?"

"I can manage."

"Go arm yourself. Tell the Roses I sent you. Keep it with you all the bloody time. We're not safe anymore."

"Okay."

Ambroggio left Turnbull and headed for the Rose encampment. Turnbull walked to the window and looked out over the courtyard. They'd taken his words to heart, even if he knew that it was because Miss Palesti had backed his words.

Each of them had a crossbow with them. Many of them wondered why and Turnbull gave them all the same answer when they confronted him about it.

 _If you can kill them before they get close you do it. There isn't any glory in what we're doing here. Don't even try to act like there is_.

His paranoia stemmed from experience. It was always acceptable to be overly prepared. Being overly prepared made sure they covered every angle they could. If everything proved wrong he'd go through and disarm the forest himself.

* * *

Moore and Myui sat in her study. Myui sat at her desk and listened intently to everything Moore had to tell her. She watched as he motioned with his hands as he explained what the two of them were about to face.

"Now, when we get out there they'll be taking pictures of you. It's like they're making a painting of you but it's real fast. You'll see these bright flashes but don't worry. They ain't doing anything bad. They're going to ask you questions. Answer them truthfully. They'll be taking everything you say as the honest-to-god truth. No one's really trusting the Japanese right now so hearing the situation directly from a local is something they'll want."

Her focus drifted away from Moore and to the top of the desk. What she was about to do could drastically alter the future of her city, possibly the entire Empire itself. How could Sir Moore be so calm about this?

"They're waiting. When you're ready we'll go." He stated.

It was quite some time later before she had mustered up the courage to go. Moore checked his watch. After he had finished his explanation she had sat there for nearly half an hour. She stood up from her spot behind her desk. Moore got to the door first and held it open for her.

When she reached the door she stopped. Moore looked at her quizzically.

"We can wait a bit more if you want. They're not gonna mind too-"

Myui quickly grasped his right hand in her left and looked up at him. From what Moore could gather he guessed that her nerves had gotten the better of her. He squeezed her hand, hoping to give her some form of reassurance.

"You ready to go?" He asked.

Without saying a word, she nodded.

The two of them walked in silence through the west hall, hand in hand through the once lively manor. As they got closer to the great hall, Myui's grip on Moore's hand tightened considerably. They were just outside the door when Moore knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"Myui." He started.

Her eyes widened in shock. He'd never called her by her first name before. He'd always referred to her as "Countess".

"You're gonna blow em' outta the water. Remember that almost a year ago you had to step up and lead your city. If I had to describe you just off these last two weeks I'd say you were ready to run this place on your own. If your dad were here to see how well you've managed I'd say he'd be pretty damn impressed. Now, you're gonna go in there and sit at your throne and tell those nice people how it's been since Japan and us got involved."

It all happened too quickly. She broke free from his grip and closed the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could.

Moore knelt there, frozen with his arms still outstretched as he stared at the wall. He'd not expected this. Not at all. It took him a bit to regain his composure, but returned the hug, patting her on the back.

 _Expecting a kid to do all this... Ain't right at all._

After a moment, the two stopped and looked at each other. Myui looked to have lost her nervousness, it being replaced by determination. Her look of apprehension and fear had been replaced with a soft smile, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.

"Go get em'. I'll be right behind ya."

She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. Moore pushed the doors open as Myui strode through the middle of the crowd of journalists and reporters. Moore wasn't too far behind. When she got to her throne she sat down as Moore and Coughlin flanked her, their hands behind their backs. When she was situated Moore spoke up.

"The Countess is ready to answer any questions that you may have." He stated.

This elicited a reaction from the crowd. They all began speaking. What made it worse was that they tried to speak over each other. Moore grimaced in response.

 _This is gonna suck._

* * *

Turnbull laid on his bed. He stared at the ceiling as he thought about the circumstances they'd been dealt. He glowered as he remembered what Alnus Command had told him when he called for assistance.

 _As of now we still have journalists from all over the world visiting the Special Region. We've been told not to directly interfere with the goings-on near Sadera. We'll begin preparing a supply drop for you, along with preparing the Fourth Combat Team to sortie at any moment but we will be unable to provide more support for the time being. You, as did the ambassadors, knew the risk when you were given this mission._

"Fucking hell..." He muttered.

Just what could be considered so important that even the Japanese higher-ups wouldn't allow for interference?

 _Don't they bloody know what's at stake here?_

Just as he was preparing to sleep, he was brought from his pondering by a knock at his door.

"It's open!" He shouted.

He glanced over to the door to see Ron and Dima, accompanied by one of the Roses.

"Something's happening in the Capital." Dima stated bluntly.

"What's happening?" He asked.

He moved to sit on the bed as he reached under his pillow for his .45.

"We don't know." Ron answered.

He heard Mick's voice over his radio.

"Cap you're gonna wanna come see this. I'm up in the steeple." He said.

His two comrades looked at him with worry, for they had heard him as well. Turnbull nodded at them and the three left for the steeple as the Rose followed, curious as to their destination.

The door to the steeple was open when they reached it as Mick ushered them in. He handed Turnbull his binoculars as he pointed out toward the west. Turnbull could see it without the binoculars but they made it much easier to confirm.

In Sadera, a fire was raging.

"When'd it start?" He asked.

He didn't take his eyes off of it.

"Bout' an hour ago." Mick answered.

"Miss Rose, d'you know anything about it?" He asked.

"No. I know that's a residential area, though. It's near the Mercantile District." She answered.

"And who lives there?"

"I don't remember."

"Well bloody try! Lives are on the line here!"

"U-um..."

She frantically picked her brain for anything she could remember, but she still drew a blank.

"I don't know."

"Go get the Antonini. He might. Tell him to meet me in the meeting hall." Turnbull ordered.

"Got it Cap!" Ron replied.

He hurried out the door and down the steps that led up to the steeple. Turnbull returned Mick's binoculars as he turned to face the remaining three.

"Get yourselves ready for anything and don't let your weapons out of your reach. We might need to act at a moment's notice. Dima, you get the Minimi and set up at your nest. I'll radio you when I think it's clear." He ordered.

"Affirmative." Dima responded.

He hurried off as well, intent on fulfilling Turnbull's request.

"And me?" The Rose asked.

"Get some sleep. Let Miss Palesti know to meet with me while you're at it. She'll find me in the meeting hall with Sugawara, Miss Shirayuri and the Antonini."

The Rose nodded and left.

Turnbull once again turned to face the blaze. He thought about who might be there. Who might be the ones that this Gestapo targeted. If they were caught or killed, he hoped that they at least put up a fight before they were.

"A bloody storm is coming..." Mick stated.

His voice didn't have it's usual cheerfulness. Turnbull knew what it meant when Mick said something with a sense of brevity. The man was serious about this.

"We've got umbrellas, so we'll be fine." Turnbull replied.

This brought a smirk to Mick's face as he shifted his gaze to him.

"Got something to say for everything, don't you." He said.

"Not for everything, Mick. Not for everything."

Turnbull spied some empty Mk 14 magazines near Mick's makeshift bedding.

"Get those mags filled. We're probably gonna need them." He ordered.

"Yes, Captain." Mick replied.

He made his way to the meeting room. He was the first one there so he chose the choice seat at the long wooden table. He reached into a dump pouch on his belt and drew out a cigar and his cutter and his lighter. By the time his associates had arrived he'd already lit it.

"Got some problems out in the city. Apparently the Oprichnina are looking for someone. Setting the place on fire doing it, too. Miss Palest, Antonini: do either of you know where it might be? It's to the west, near the Mercantile District." He explained.

The two nobles looked at each other. Their eyes widened in realization.

"The family that heads the main counting house is the Tyueli Family." Bozes answered.

Sugawara looked at Bozes.

"Who lives there?" He asked.

He didn't want to believe her. She had to have been mistaken. He'd never been to their home but he was sure Sherry would have told him where she lived.

"The Tyueli Family. They're the owners of the largest counting house there." She reiterated.

"D'you know em', Sugawara?" Turnbull asked.

Sugawara didn't answer for he was too lost in his thoughts.

"He does. He knows their daughter Sherry. She's been rather smitten with him." Reiko answered.

"Are you sure it's related to them?" Sugawara asked.

"If I were to be honest I'd say no. But from what Ambroggio told me about them, along with what he told us the Oprichnina were made for, I'd guess that the fire is somewhat related to them. I hope I'm wrong of course but I won't rule them out." Turnbull answered.

"Let's hope you are definitely wrong." Sugawara added.

Turnbull raised one of his eyebrows at that.

"Something the matter? I know how to fix _that_ : let me and my men go and look for them. We'll bring them back safe. Dima's pretty sneaky despite his size."

Sugawara slammed his fist down on the table.

"You're to stay here! We're not to get involved!" He ordered.

This elicited a shock from Reiko as Turnbull put his hands in the air, as if to show he surrendered.

"If you say so, Boss. Not gonna go against you." He replied.

"Good. Keep it that way. Remember this: We hired you to protect _**us**_ _._ Not _**them.**_ "

With that, Sugawara left the room.

Turnbull looked at Reiko. A look of understanding had formed between the two.

"He loves her, doesn't he?" Turnbull asked.

"I don't know. She's too young to marry in Japan. I feel he doesn't want anything to happen to her. That answer he gave was good for a diplomat, but _**only**_ for a diplomat." Reiko answered.

"Fucking bureaucrats." Turnbull stated.

He nodded to them as he stood up and made his way to his room once more. When he got there he reached under his bed and pulled out his AK-12. He donned the sling and let the rifle hang loosely from it.

Tonight he thought he'd best be prepared for anything, even the end of the world. He knew for sure he wasn't going to let even that take him and his men.

* * *

As night fell in Italica, Moore stood in the plaza as he and his men guarded the journalists. He watched them as they interviewed random citizens as some of the JSDF or the contractors or Noriko translated for them.

They'd already finished the group interview with Myui, but the German had once again tried to work his way toward a one-on-at-least-two interview with Myui. He knew that if he was going to let anyone speak to her he, or at least one of his men, were there to keep them from trying anything funny.

Moore didn't really like reporters. He always thought that they were mostly in it for some kind of agenda or narrative. He knew he was mostly wrong, with many of the correspondents that he met during the push to Baghdad simply being there to show the people what was going on there, but he still didn't trust all of them and he wasn't going to trust that German so easily.

Suddenly, off in the distance,a helicopter could be heard, it's blades pummeled the air into submission as it approached.

He, as did many of the attendants, looked to see who had arrived. They watched as an MH-Six Littlebird sped toward them as it went to land near the North Gate. It was too dark to see who it's occupants were, but he knew who it was by way of radio from Alnus Command.

When the small door within the gate opened, he smiled at the new addition to the group.

"Did ya miss me, Smoke?"

Abrams stood there in all his glory. His leg had healed and he walked on it just fine. He was decked out in full kit, as they had left that at Alnus for him. Behind him Xian stood, silent and with her hands behind her back.

Neither of them looked too different, save for Xian.

Compared to the last time he had seen her, she had done something with her hair. Instead of it hanging loose, stopping at her shoulders, it was tied back in a ponytail, a strip of red cloth serving as the tie.

He had to admit that the look suited her well.

"Sure did, buddy." He answered.

He met Abrams halfway, grabbing hold of his forearm and shaking it, with Abrams following along. He clapped him on the shoulder as he pointed to the group from the United Kingdom.

"Go help em' out. They'd be pretty happy to see a face from England." Moore ordered.

"Got it. Wait, why isn't Coughlin doin' it? I just got outta the bloody hospital!" He resisted.

It was a joke. Moore knew that. To be honest he missed this over the last few weeks.

"Get to it. Coughlin's helping the Argentines."

"Gotcha."

"Xian, you can-" Moore started.

Xian didn't pay him any attention. She walked past him, intent on her destination.

"The fuck's that about?" Moore asked.

"She's still pretty mad ya left her behind." Abrams answered.

"Shouldn't she be over it by now?"

"Elves are like that apparently. They hold grudges for a while since they live so bloody long. That's from that sage guy who's Lelei's teacher or something. He wanted to see my leg during the stay. Not the shot leg, the fake one."

"Shit. I'll apologize to her. Think that'll fix it?"

"Probably. Could try it if ya want. I ain't gonna stop ya."

Moore nodded as he left to follow Xian. She headed straight for one of the shrines that had been set up by the Clergy of Emroy. She kneeled in front of it quickly and closed her eyes, clasped her hands and prayed.

Moore waited patiently for her to finish, and when she did she turned to face him. She glared at him as if she were trying to kill him with her gaze. This didn't deter him though.

"I'm sorry for leaving you at Alnus. I wanted someone to keep Abrams company while he recovered but I didn't take your opinion into account. For that I'm sorry." He said.

Even if it sounded rehearsed, he had meant it sincerely. Xian seemed to notice this as her expression and posture relaxed.

"At least you apologized for it. I'm not letting you off the hook though." She scolded.

"Then what else can I do to make it up to you?" He asked.

"You and I are going to take the walk of Argei together. That'll make up for it."

"Wha?"

He was genuinely confused. Before this the Priestess explained Argei to him, what he was to do for it, but he had never heard of this.

She saw this and sighed as she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You and I are going to walk the path to the ritual site together. It's just a way of showing friendship." She explained.

She smiled.

"Okay. Don't see a problem with that." He replied.

A horn brought attention to the Head Priestess of Emroy, who stood upon a simple wood podium, flanked by two priestesses. Everyone quieted to hear what she had to say. She raised her arms, then spoke.

"Fellow Italicans! Lend me your ear! Tonight we give thanks to the gods, as we have for the last two-thousand years! The gods give us everything in their divine benevolence and like good, pious folk we expect to not simply give nothing in return! Tonight, as we have for generations, make haste to the great lake Hali! May the gods watch over us as we make the journey!"

Her voice was surprisingly strong for someone of her age. All around Moore, citizens bowed their heads as they lit candles. Then they began to march as the gates opened. The procession made their way out of Italica as the gates shut behind them. Moore leaned closer to Xian and whispered.

"So uh, where's this lake at? Not too far?" He asked.

"Oh, it's an hour's walk from here." She answered.

 _So that's what Kaine meant._

He was used to humping it. It's the main way he traveled during his patrols in Afghan and Iraq, so he wasn't too worried.

The procession walked and walked for what seemed like such a long time until they reached a forest some ways from Italica, near the Romalia Mountains. The Rho River jutted off and formed a lake here. When they reached it, people began to emerge from the forest, eliciting a reaction from Moore as he reflexively reached for his AK. Xian stopped him as she placed her hand on his forearm.

"They're druids of Wareharun." She explained.

Moore was able to make them out as they approached. Compared to the clergy of Emroy, these druids were dressed more plain. They all wore simple robes kept their natural colors. Along with that, Moore noticed that none of them wore shoes and looked quite unkempt.

"Kinda ragged to be clergy, don't you think?" He asked.

"Tis' the beauty of nature. One need not make oneself look beautiful, for nature is beautiful regardless." Xian answered.

"Hmm."

The druids embraced the clergy of Emroy as one would an old friend, then they led them, along with the procession, further into the forest. As they walked he saw a glittering along the darkness of the path.

"Uhh..."

"Wisps. Don't follow them for they may lead you astray, never to return to this world." Xian answered.

After some time, they reached the lake. It was quite large, going out of view as the procession stood on the shoreline. Moore knew what to do from here.

One by one, an effigy was placed upon the water, lit and then pushed out. The person who would do so was almost always a powerful person within Italica. First it was the owner of the counting house, then the guildmaster of the Physician's guild, then it was Moore's turn.

As he pushed the wicker form of a man, his form littered with arrows, out to open water, he felt as if something had been lifted off his mind. A weight that hopefully wouldn't return for quite some time.

"Don't know if you can hear me Emroy, but I hope you take what I said into account." He muttered.

He then felt a chill go through him, as if someone walked over his grave. He looked around, then up to that beautiful sky.

"You did well, Nathan." Xian stated.

He turned to face her as she approached. He smiled at her and she returned it.

"I'd say I'm pretty good at being a Praetor if I do say so myself." He boasted.

"Don't get a big head." She scolded.

He chuckled at that.

When the final effigy was sent out, the procession once again returned to Italica to celebrate.

* * *

Turnbull looked out over the courtyard. He, just like his team, waited, weapons in hand for something to happen. It had been hours now but nothing, not even a messenger, had arrived. It was getting on in the morning, so he thought once more about simply calling off the watch and going to sleep and forgetting all this. He tugged at the cloak around his shoulders. It helped in this cool night air and it helped keep him inconspicuous as he had pulled the hood up, but it was quite uncomfortable.

"We've got two approaching from one of the side paths. Camera thirteen." Ron stated over the radio.

"Gimme a description."

"One of them's older, looks to be in his forties or fifties. The other's a little girl, looking to be around thirteen or so. Pretty dress she's got on there."

"Did you inform Sabra?"

"Yep. She should be with that Rose at the entrance there. She'll let em' in."

"Alright. Any idea who they might be?"

"Nah. They got fancy clothes though so I'd say they're important or nobles or something."

"Alright."

He walked into the palace and up to the meeting hall. The ambassadors had been assembled for quite some time as they had been communicating with their superiors. The ones who forbade any kind of immediate assistance.

"Got some people coming. Looked important." He stated.

"We can't let them in." Sugawara replied.

A Rose entered behind him. The one with the purple hair, he recalled. Her name was something like some kind of booze but he couldn't remember it off the top of his head.

"We've two nobles seeking asylum. One of them is the Marquess Casel." She said.

"We can't let them in. Tell them that. We just refused not a moment ago. If we take in one, we'll have to take in two, then four. There'll be no end to it. The Crown Prince and his men won't take that lying down. It'll just make things worse." Sugawara replied.

"I'm aware of the situation, but the person accompanying him begged me. She said you would let them in."

"The person with him?"

"Sugawara! It's Sherry! Sherry's here!" A young feminine voice cried out.

He advanced on the window.

"Sherry!" He said, dumbfounded.

"So she was telling the truth, I guess." The Knight stated.

Sugawara looked at her.

"What did she say?" He asked.

"The same thing girls her age always say. Show them the smallest kindness and they get all sorts of crazy ideas."

"Did she tell you I was her future husband?"

"Yup."

Sherry called out once more.

"Sugawara! At least let me hear your voice!" She cried.

"You haven't laid a finger on her, Right? That just makes it worse. It makes her think you really care about her. She's made it this far by clinging to your kindness. She's literally risking her life."

Turnbull interrupted. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Sugawara's shoulder.

"We both bloody know what they'll do to her." He said.

Sugawara brushed his hand off without even turning to face him.

"I know, but I'm a diplomat. I can't let my personal feelings interfere with national interests."

Mick's voice crackled over Turnbull's radio.

"Cap I got movement. A group of people in dog cloaks. Leader's got the face of a smug-ass chav."

"Hold your fire." He ordered.

"He's making for the girl! I can get him!"

"Hold. Your. Fire."

"Sir!"

He heard her cry out, plead for Sugawara, but he did nothing.

"Sugawara! Save me!" She shouted.

He could make out the smug bastard now. He could hear him as he raised his voice.

"Come along!" He shouted.

Sugawara rushed to the main door of the palace and quickly pushed it open.

"SUGAWARA!" Sherry cried out.

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HER!" He ordered.

His voice echoed in the dark night.

"Permission to fire!"

"Hold your goddamned fire Mick!" Turnbull ordered.

Turnbull exited the palace as well and stood behind Sugawara.

"You're going to let that girl go." Sugawara said.

The Medieval Chav smirked at Sugawara's request.

"Oh? She is an imperial citizen. Why does a Japanese bureaucrat want her release?"

"Mick's got a shot lined up. He can get him without hitting the girl." Turnbull whispered.

"Wait. You'll know when." Sugawara replied.

He raised his voice as he walked down the stairs and onto the courtyard.

"Because she is to marry me once she turns sixteen!" He shouted.

The Chav didn't look fazed by that at all, as he simply chuckled and smirked.

"You really think that's going to work?" He asked.

One of the palace guards took hold of his arm. The Chav looked at the bearded man in surprise.

"Go, Miss. The Ambassador's given his approval."

He threw the Chav down and pushed her forward.

"Go to Japan!"

Her feet left the Empire behind and carried her to the courtyard. To Japan.

The sun began to rise over the mountains, and as it illuminated the courtyard, the two betrothed-to-be approached each other. First at a walk, then Sherry ran to him and he embraced her.

Turnbull watched on. The plan worked well, and he knew this was his chance. He walked down the steps, passing the two as they embraced. He scanned the outskirts of the woods and glanced a form that crept around the side of the Oprichnina, who had grouped up. They bared their teeth behind their master, as if they were his personal dogs of war.

"How dare you!" The Chav shouted.

"Form rank!" Beefeater shouted.

Her Roses did as she commanded. The Chav stared her down, but he didn't pay any mind to the strange thing going from her ear into her armor, it's cord curled. Turnbull activated his microphone.

"Commence attack plan Longinus." Turnbull ordered.

He held the button down.

"It is our mission to defend the Jade Palace! None shall be allowed to pass without the ambassador's approval! We will defend it with our lives!" Beefeater shouted.

Her knights shouted in agreement.

The Chav's face contorted in anger, as if he were a child denied a toy.

"You can't do this! The treaty is irrelevant if we're here to catch a criminal! Get ready!" He shouted.

His men readied their spears.

"Draw swords!" Beefeater shouted.

Her knights drew their swords.

"Go!" The Chav ordered.

His men charged forward, their intent to kill quite evident.

Turnbull spoke into his microphone.

"Weapons free."


	9. Chapter 9: Starbuck

**This took way too long to put out. That's all I have to say.**

* * *

Mari Kurokawa sat at her desk and wrote about the last patient she had seen to. She looked up from her notes and around her small office. It wasn't much, but it was a place the people of Akusho could go that could aid them in their battles against whatever made them ill.

Their clinic was the _only_ place, for that matter. The Guild of Physicians had long since abandoned Akusho to the slumlords and criminals that called it home.

Their clinic was more than that though. Unbeknownst to her patients it also served as a research outpost on the various ailments that afflict the Special Region Inhabitants. Kurokawa had kept tabs on every person who came to visit her and took a copious amount of notes on their ailments.

She took visits from the prostitutes with extra gravity. She, just like the rest of RCT3, knew about Kurata and Persia, what the couple had done before they were given this mission.

Her door burst open, and as her eyes shot up to see who it was she was pulled from her seat and toward the area where she saw to her patients. There, having been deposited on her operating table, was a man, writhing in pain, an arrow embedded in his upper arm. Kuwahara and Tomita looked at her as they were the ones who had brought the man here. She could tell that by the blood that stained their uniforms that definitely wasn't theirs.

"Can you see to him?" Kuwahara asked.

Urgency was in his voice, and as he looked at her and then at the man, she knew the answer.

"I'll do all I can." She answered.

She began to tend to the man, and as she did so she occasionally glanced at her comrades. They looked tense as Kuwahara left the office and Tomita watched the door.

"What's going on out there?" She asked.

"Imperials have surrounded Akusho, both gates. That's how he got shot. We've got Kurata radioing for assistance right now." Tomita answered.

She looked over the man's wound, and as she saw that the arrow had completely went through, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to remove the arrow now." She explained as she donned a pair of gloves.

He looked at her, fear present in his eyes. For a physician of this time, the thought of removing an arrow was hopeful at best and suicidal at worst, but she, unlike them, had access to a better means of doctoring.

She hurried over to her medical cabinet and gathered the materials she would need for this. The man would need more than a simple mouth-administered painkiller for this. The wound was quite severe and she would need to act fast if she wanted to make sure he didn't bleed to death.

When she returned she placed her materials on the small table near the operating table, she readied a syringe and injected something into his arm. He felt the prick, but after a few moments his arm went numb.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Medicine to help with the pain. Now, I'm going to remove the arrow. I ask that you hold still." She explained.

He nodded as he grit his teeth and looked away. She picked up a small saw and began to saw away at a spot on the arrow near the head. As the head dropped off she grabbed the shaft and slowly pulled it out of his arm, the man groaning as she did so. She grabbed a roll of something white and began to wrap it around his arm. Eventually she had mummified it in slowly reddening dressing.

"I've stopped the bleeding for now but I need you to rest, so please lie down. Can you tell me how this happened?" She asked him.

"Imperials... They know you're here and they want us to hand you over. Akusho said 'No'. They're demanding access to the district..." He said, doing what she asked as he laid down on the table.

She didn't show fear, or any other emotion for that matter. She knew that the citizens of Akusho wouldn't betray them so readily. Many of them were criminals, that was a given, but many of them knew when it was better to not capitulate.

"I'm sure we'll survive." She replied.

He looked at her as something akin to confused bewilderment crossed his features. He tried to speak, but the words didn't come at first. It took him a moment to finally get back his nerve.

"How can you be so sure?! They'll do anything to get in here! Kill every man, woman and child!" He retorted.

"And that's why I'm sure we'll survive. My countrymen wouldn't abandon us. We've someone contacting them right now."

He sighed and lowered his head in defeat.

"I believe you... It goes against my better judgement, but..."

She walked over to her desk, grabbing her Type 64 that she had propped against the wall nearest her chair. As she walked over to the door, intent on heading to the armory to completely gear up, the man asked one more question.

"Do you think we can hold out that long? Who knows when they'll arrive?"

She turned to him, her face stern.

"We'll do all we can."

She walked out of the office and left the man to his own devices. If they were to survive the night they would need every rifle they could get.

* * *

Gimlet was many things: a poet, a warrior, a nobleman's unwanted child, but one thing he wasn't was a coward. He wouldn't back down from the challenge the Roses offered, and he'd defeat them too! Even if it cost all his men their lives. As he ordered them to charge, he smirked as sick satisfaction filled him.

His men were all hardened criminals, veterans, and loyal partisans of the regime of the great Zorzal. Against a group of knights, if one could call them that, who had been nothing more than honor guards, toy soldiers, for the longest time, they would surely come out victorious!

He'd expected them to charge, to meet his men head-on.

When a crack sounded and many of them, save for one, who was pulled down by her peers, dropped to a crouch, he didn't have time to think.

A staccato of loud, sharp, rapid cracks emanated from the direction of the palace. In but a second a portion of his men simply dropped to the ground mid-charge. With another staccato more fell, but this time the cracks were joined by more to his left. He didn't know what was going on or what had caused his men to simply drop dead like that, but he had to act fast if he were to survive. He'd lost too many men and this battle would have to be fought another day. He began to back up as he held his spear up defensively.

"Retreat! Ret-"

He didn't have time to finish, for Mick watched through his scope as the Chav fell, a red bloom on his chest. When he heard the spent casing hit the floor near him he pressed a button, connected to the handle of his M14, and surveyed the carnage that he and his team had wrought. No one from the opposing force was standing. The ones who hadn't died had been routed into the woods, and that definitely didn't bode well for them.

"All threats neutralized, Sir. I'm not seeing any notable movement." He stated.

His voice was calm and collected. He thought back to the times he would provide overwatch for his section in Helmand. He remembered the absolute fear on the Chav's face as he watched his men fall before him.

"Good." Turnbull replied over the radio.

He adjusted his scope. He didn't need one as high-powered as this. A four or three-times scope would have been fine. With the scope he was issued he had easily made out the details of the Chav's face and his expression of absolute terror before he snuffed his life out. He probably didn't even know what was going on, either.

He watched as one of the knights, the pretty one with the purple hair, pushed herself off the ground and stomped over to the Captain. He could hear her shouting from here but still couldn't make out what she said. The Captain shouted back though, and he was much more intimidating than she could ever hope to be. He saw her recoil in shock from the tongue-lashing he gave her.

She relented and slunk back to her comrades, and as Miss Palesti seemed to scold her about something, he heard Turnbull's voice over his radio.

"Ron got through to Alnus. Whole situation's FUBAR so we're gonna hole up and wait for extraction. Got some problems though." He explained.

"And those problems are?" Mick replied.

"We don't know _when_ extraction'll get here. Gonna need you to stay up there for now and provide overwatch, watch the perimeter."

"Affirmative. Also; where the hell did 'Attack Plan Longinus' come from?"

He heard Turnbull snort as he watched him shake his head.

"Fuckin' Roses wanted a name for the damned thing so I came up with something on the spot."

"But... Longinus?"

"We stabbed em' in the fuckin' side! What's there to think on? I'm not the kind of bloke to make up a good name for everything! Wanna talk to someone like that you'd best talk to my brother-in-law! Out."

He looked through his scope once more. As he did so he watched the Purple-Haired Knight and her comrades walk amongst the corpses. Every once in awhile they would stab some barely alive son-of-a-bitch unlucky enough to not be killed by the initial gunfire.

* * *

"So this place is just one large city? Like Sadera? I've been there before. It's large enough you could live your whole life there without leaving." Xian asked.

She sat across from Moore in the foyer of the manor. She always liked speaking to him. He always had an answer to any of her questions about his world, and unlike some of the others he didn't simply wave her off. As she watched him, she saw that he smiled as he talked. She like seeing him smile.

"Yeah, well kinda. I'd only ever left it once before I enlisted. It's the biggest city in California, and the place is, like, a big spot in global trade and stuff. You could live your whole life there. Everything you'd ever need is there. To be honest, it's not that great in a lot of places. Damn expensive to live well there and it just ain't my kinda place." Moore answered.

"Do you still live there?" She asked.

Moore shook his head in response.

"Hell no. About five years ago I moved the whole family to Maine, to a place outside a town called Machias. It's different, but it's still sorta on the coast in a different part of our country, like on the other end of it."

Xian cocked her head to the side as she looked at him.

"Why did you leave?"

Moore looked away as his expression darkened.

"I got my reasons." He said.

Her eyes showed concern as she leaned in and placed her hand atop his.

"Do you not want to talk about it?" She asked.

He sighed before turning his gaze back to her. His smile was gone, but at least he didn't look as sad as he did before.

"It's not a nice story. See, a few years ago-" He started, before a knock on the side of the door cut him off.

When the two looked to see who had knocked, they saw that it was Cohen. He didn't have his usual blank stare, as something had caused it to crack, it having been replaced by one of grim urgency.

"I just got off the net with command." He stated.

"What's wrong?" Moore asked as he stood up.

"We're being ordered to deploy." Cohen answered.

Moore's eyes widened at his response. He looked at Cohen, then at Xian, who looked at him in confusion, for the two, in their haste, had spoken in English.

"Both of you come with me." Moore ordered.

As he walked at his brisk pace, the two looked at him expectantly.

"Tell me why." Moore ordered.

"Third Recon Team is in Sadera. They've come under attack by the Imperials. They're saying that they're intending to force their way into a place called Akusho and presumably take them hostage. We're the closest since their higher-ups are stopping the Japanese from deploying," Cohen explained, pausing to catch a breath. "We're ordered to go, assist with the protection of Akusho and get them out if we can. The Japanese are talking about an operation in a day or two and we're to support RCT3 until then."

"No way around it?"

Cohen shook his head.

"No way I can see."

"Get to the barracks and tell everyone to get ready, then get loaded on the blackhawk."

"Got it."

Cohen split off from the two as they headed to Moore's room. Xian, in confusion, watched as Moore readied himself for rapid reaction. She spoke up when he strapped his plate carrier on.

"Will you need me for this?" She asked.

"I don't know. You said you know Sadera?"

"Some of it."

"What about Akusho?"

She paused when he said that, but only for a moment as she nodded in confirmation.

"Go get your stuff and meet us at the barracks."

* * *

The day after Argei was, to many, a day of rest. A day the gods allow for all to take time off from their troubles and simply live as they intended. Many of the contractors took that and ran far with it, as many had opted to simply stay in the barracks and enjoy themselves, save for the ones who drew the short straw and had to patrol. Those that did had decided to go with Coughlin's idea, which had eaten most, if not all of the day.

As the group sat and watched, many, mostly from the Special Region, were enthralled in the story that unfolded before them. Even more were outright terrified, but still watched on, clutching someone or covering their eyes, save for a crack from which they could see.

"Why don't we just wait here for a little while, see what happens?" R.J. MacReady asked.

He passed the bottle over to Childs, who smirked at him, then took a swig of its contents. As the camera zoomed out on the burning research station and the credits began to roll, Mohmu released her white-knuckled grip on Abrams's arm.

As the others, seated just like they had been in liberated sofas and chairs, stood up to stretch their legs or simply leave, Mohmu looked at Abrams, her expression one of surprise.

"I liked that, what was it called? A film? What did you think, Sir Abrams?" She asked.

She, like many of their fellow moviegoers that weren't native to Earth, were fortunate enough to have been selected for Japanese language courses a few months before the contractors had arrived there. They had little trouble reading the Japanese subtitles Coughlin had so graciously added for their moviegoing experience.

"Ehh. It coulda been better." He replied.

Coughlin leaned over the couch in front of them and smirked.

"Would ya rather we watch _Magic Mike_ , then? _The Thing's_ a bloody classic."

Abrams rolled his eyes at that.

"Yeah it's a classic, but I just never cared for the production quality." Abrams responded.

"Boy they didn't have a lotta money to work with! Least it ain't the shitty twenty-eleven one. I'll take creepy-lookin' practical shit over CGI any day, man."

"Not a lot of money?"

"Fifteen million's nothing for a movie, mate."

"Whatever. Tell that to _Clerks, Halloween_ and fuckin' _Rocky_."

Mohmu looked between the two, confused as to what their exchange was about, for they had lapsed into English. The argument continued and seemed to get more and more heated the longer they continued, much to Mohmu's dismay, who'd been caught in the middle of it.

The sound of the door opening drew her eyes to the man who entered. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see it was the quiet one from Sir Moore's group. His blank stare didn't put her off like it did many of the other maids, so her persistence to get to know him had been met with little resistance, much to her surprise.

As he spoke up, she was surprised at how loud the soft-spoken man could be.

"Get your gear and get to the pad!" He said as he hurried over to his bed.

The barracks came alive. The Contractors had sprung into action as they hurried and prepared themselves. She watched Coughlin and Abrams, who were almost perfectly in sync as they grabbed their gear and passed things to one another.

As they prepared, the Italicans were only somewhat confused. They didn't know what Cohen had said, since it was in that language that many of them spoke that wasn't Japanese, but they watched, enraptured, as the rough men got ready for something. The Maids knew this kind of urgency, for they had seen it before with the former soldiers of Italica, when they were being mustered for their ill-fated campaign against the Ones in Green.

The Gray Ones were going to war.

In but six minutes they were ready, and as they hurried to the helipad, many of the non-earther guests followed them. They were stopped by the helicopter itself as it kept them back with the buffeting winds its rotors created. Unlike the contractors they were still in awe, and in some cases, fear of those metal things that flew through the sky.

As they watched the Ones In Gray board their strange craft through it's opened side, they saw their faces. Many of them held a look of grim determination, but not all of them. Coughlin grinned as he pulled something on the side of his "shotgun", as he called it.

Moore and Xian were the last to make it to the craft, both of them looking just as prepared as the others. He ushered her onto it and took a seat nearest to the door, and then the machine began to lift into the air and out of sight, it's terribly loud noises muffled the further it got from the city, leaving behind a courtyard of confused and afraid citizens to their own devices.

As Cohen closed the door of the Blackhawk, Moore looked around the fuselage at his fellow contractors. Most of them looked like he felt but didn't show: confused, anxious, but still ready for whatever this world could throw at them.

As he looked, some would meet his gaze and reply with a small nod of their heads, and some simply didn't notice him, intent on last-minute inspections of their weapons.

His eyes finally fell on Xian, who had drawn her bow and had started to warm it up. He watched as she pulled the bowstring back, as if she had nocked an arrow, and then let it go back to its resting position, albeit slowly as she still held onto the string firmly.

He admired her determination, but to him she was just as green as the JSDF. Today would be a time to prove her worth to them.

* * *

Mari peered through her sights at an imperial soldier as he advanced toward the gate to Akusho. He, like many of his compatriots, fell to another salvo let from one of their rifles. She spied another group as they approached, the group moving a large ladder toward their position.

A burst from one of the operator's M4's put him down swiftly, the others who had seen this quickly abandoning the ladder and hiding in a nearby alley.

They were learning, and it had made this all the more grueling. She thought back to the battle of Alnus, and how there they had simply had been proverbial lambs, sent to the slaughter. She thought to Italica and how the men there had simply thrown themselves at Shino and Rory, how they fought with the reckless abandon a wounded, cornered animal would show.

The soldiers in Sadera were different, for they had learned from the mistakes of their fallen.

They didn't carry shields anymore. She had seen that when some of them tried to seize the advantage and try to move a ladder or a hook and rope to the wall. They instead pushed an absurdly thick, wheeled wooden wall, a sheet of darkened metal over its front, it having been pitted from the shots they had fired at it. The wall was high, so high that it could probably touch the parapets that they, along with the more combat hardened citizens of Akusho used to protect themselves from the constant rain of projectiles.

Something protruded from the front of it. A long wooden pole that bore the head of a dragon, cast in metal, it's expression one of utmost anger.

In her mind it was, without a doubt, a battering ram meant for knocking the gate that stood between them living and dying, inward and allowing the bulk of the Imperial forces into the district.

Goddamnit. Where were their LAMs?

They just had to bide time. They wouldn't be abandoned. There were reinforcements on the way. The only question was when they would arrive.

From her radio a voice crackled.

"RCT3 this is Starbuck. We are approaching Akusho now, do you copy, over?"

Kurata had been left at the clinic to monitor the radio, and he replied in turn. There was shock evident on his face about the obvious non-japanese accent the man spoke in.

"Starbuck this is Sergeant Kurata, we read you loud and clear. We have contact with Imperial forces that are intent on doing us harm. ETA on arrival, over?"

"ETA six minutes give or take, hold on until we get there, out."

She saw another of her comrades, an older man who used to be an enforcer for the Bessara family crumple. A bolt had pierced his throat. She watched in horror as he writhed about for a moment before going still. His gaze met hers and the world stopped as his cold dead eyes bored into her very soul.

"Mari! Snap out of it! We've got more movement at twelve o' clock!"

The voice of Tomita brought her out of her stupor, and as she turned to see exactly where she had spoke of, she saw the proverbial tide of blades that approached them.

The advancing force must have been at least three-hundred strong. Few carried shields just like before, and interspersed throughout the force were larger humanoids, the largest of which carried hammers. Hammers that Mari knew would be used to smash in the gates of Akusho.

Her hands began to shake. She took aim and fired into the crowd. She saw someone fall, but it didn't stop the procession, and so they simply continued their march toward the gates.

* * *

"ETA six minutes give or take, hold on until we get there, out." Janowski's co-pilot replied over their radio.

Moore looked around the well-lit fuselage once more at his fellow contractors. They had also heard the conversation and they had begun to get themselves ready. Hopefully that shipment of weapons would prove itself useful today.

There were few that actually carried an AK-12 at this point. Many had switched to something that they could carry more ammunition for. This included his own team, with Santiago and Cohen having both taken MP5's with them.

Moore thumbed the sight on the GP-34 that was attached underneath the barrel of his AK. He'd taken it with him. He was the team leader, after all. If anyone was going to use it, it was going to be him. He didn't want anyone else carrying that weight.

The fuselage was thick with tension. Moore had expected that, however. They never thought that they would have to _actually_ get into combat. He thought to what the repercussions would be for them getting involved. Maybe the UN would pressure Japan to cut the contract, maybe the US would back their decision. He hoped for the former, but deep down he would have been fine with the latter.

"Alright gentlemen!"

His outburst brought him the attention of his comrades, who looked at him expectedly. He looked at Xian, who looked at him with the same expectancy that his fellows held.

"We don't know what we're gonna be facing down there so be ready for anything. Watch each other's backs, look out for the JSDF there and don't let these guys get too close. We've got the advantage until then."

The others nodded in response.

"Xian, you know the most about this place so we're trusting you to give us an idea of what the place is like. Do you know anything about this Akusho place?" He asked her.

"It's a slum. It's a horrible place that even the city guard refuses to patrol in. They've left the place to the crime families." She explained.

"We've been told there's a place we can land the chopper that'll be marked by flares. They're surrounded on both sides. Both gates have Imperial forces assailing them. They're going to evacuate the gates and we'll let loose on the Imperials sieging them." Moore added.

One of the crew chiefs, his helmet reading "Wu", gave a thumbs up from his seat at the left gunner's chair.

"After that we're gonna land, disembark and provide support until we can get more reinforcements or until we're told to pull out. Janowski and the crew will provide air support until Keatings and Pelayo can get here with the other blackhawk." Moore explained.

"They bringing more ammo?" Someone asked.

"Yep." Moore answered.

"We hear from Turnbull?" Someone else asked.

"Not yet. Still no idea where they're at in the capitol." Moore answered.

"Cohen, can you try to contact him on the radio when this calms down? He said he'd be bringing a radio with him." Abrams asked.

Cohen nodded in response.

"We're gonna be at the capitol soon." Janowski said.

"How close?" Moore asked.

"Open the door. You can see it."

Moore motioned for Cohen to open the door, who complied. In the light of the full moon the place could be easily made out, with its grandiose buildings that loomed over the smaller residential districts. Outside the city fires burned and even with their distance from the city, they made out shapes moving in the firelight.

Moore pointed toward the end, near the southernmost end of the city, where a flat expanse of land was noticeable.

"Akusho is somewhere around there, Near the southern end of the city. See those fires outside the city walls? I'd guess that's our targets."

"Don't fire until we get a positive ID, alright Wu? Bennett?" Janowski asked.

"Understood." The two crew chiefs answered.

With their agreement, Janowski's copilot spoke into the radio once more.

"Come in RCT3, this is Starbuck, we're approaching Sadera now. What is going on down there?" He asked.

"Starbuck this is RCT3. The fires are Imperial forces trying to get into the district from the outer gate. We've got Imperials at the inner gate as well, over."

"RCT3 we're going to open fire on the Imperials on the outer wall in ninety seconds. Clear the wall, over."

"Say again Starbuck, I don't think I heard that correctly, over." Kurata replied.

"RCT3 we are going to open fire on the Imperials trying to siege the outer gate to Akusho. Clear the walls, over." He repeated.

"Uh..."

There was a moment of radio silence on Kurata's end. Janowski and his copilot exchanged confused looks before the copilot spoke again.

"Do you copy, RCT3? Come in, RCT3, over."

"Understood, will comply, out."

With that, the radio went silent. Moore looked at Xian, who eyed him with curiosity.

"Close your eyes and press those headphones to your ears. It's gonna get real loud in here."

* * *

Kuwahara lit the last flare and dropped it on the stones of the square he stood in. He looked around the square at the citizens who watched him as he had done this. They hadn't been told what was going on, but he knew that they trusted the JSDF with their safety. They'd proven time and time again that they would protect them.

When he heard the telltale sign of rotor blades spinning in the distance, he pressed the button on his microphone.

"Kurata! The flares have been lit. We've got fifteen minutes until they burn out. Does Starbuck see them?" He asked.

"Starbuck sees them. He's going to make his first sweep in ninety seconds."

"Understood. Everyone, clear the walls!"

Over the net he heard the myriad of voices that were his team chime in and respond.

"Clear the walls!" Shino shouted down the line.

The line repeated what had been ordered, and rather quickly the ones who manned the walls retreated, much to their opponents surprise and relief.

The Imperials at the outer gate watched as their foes retreated, and so their legate ordered the ogres to move forward to smash the gates in. He watched as one of his tribunes pointed to the horizon.

From his perch he could see exactly what it was that caught the tribune's attention. It was some kind of flying beast. That much he could tell in the cold moonlight. It looked to not have wings as it hovered a somewhat fair distance in the air behind the battle and watched them.

He assumed that it watched them, since it didn't move for some time before it began to approach their position.

"Archers! Fire upon that beast!" He shouted.

He pointed to it, and his archers turned to sight it, the beast not having moved at all as they let loose a volley of arrows upon it. The legate saw that they simply bounced off of it's strange armor. Then the beast let forth the worst sound that the legate could have ever heard in his life. A sound that would have haunted his dreams.

To him, it sounded like the demons of the deepest of the infernal realms had broken free, and their wrath had befallen his men.

To Bennett and Wu and the other members of Strike One, save for Xian, who had done as Moore had ordered, it sounded like the firing of an M134 Minigun.

The legate watched as whole swathes of his men, his loyal, brave, and valorous men fell before him. In between the dirt that this horrid machination kicked up around him, he could see the carnage that it wrought, the clouds of red, the unmistakable red of one's blood, that got kicked up.

The horrid noise sounded once more, the dirt kicking up in front of him and obscuring his vision of the carnage that it wrought.

He didn't know how the beast was able to kill whole groups of men. This was no dragon, no fell beast that's presence can signal the end of an era! He dropped to the ground out of fear and cowered before the might of this strange and hellish thing.

That damnable noise went off one more time, this time longer than the other two times it had roared.

When he opened his eyes, he took in the hellscape that had been laid out before him. His contingent, his men, were dead. This strange creature, which simply hovered for a while before it flew away, toward the city, had absolutely decimated his warriors.

Few were left standing after the beast had finished with them. He could see soldiers that crawled, tried to get somewhere, _anywhere_ but here, their entrails mixing with the dirt as they died.

That monster had even decimated the ogres. They laid there, their bodies pockmarked and their eyes wide open, as if they had no idea what had befallen them.

To describe them as punctured was not befitting what had happened to them. They, along with the majority of his troops, had been shredded apart by this beast. The legate tried to stand but couldn't. When he looked down, he saw why.

His right leg had been taken off. It wasn't a clean removal by any stretch of the imagination, but what was left of his leg hung on by ragged bits of flesh and tendon.

It didn't take long for him to know for certain that no help would come for him. The men who hadn't been killed had been routed and were certainly not coming back for someone that they thought dead. None, save for whom the gods held favor in, would survive something as horrible as that.

With what little strength he had left he forced himself into a sitting position and watched the moon. That _thing_ must not have been any sort of animal or monster. It must have been something that their foes wielded against them.

When he thought of the other force that sieged the inner gate, he chuckled at their poor judgement to have volunteered for this mission, trying to appease Zorzal, that child-king, instead of being forced like he had. He reached for his gladius, his fingers closing around the handle as he stood it up, preparing himself for the only honorable thing he could do in this situation.

He promptly fell on his sword.

* * *

Mari stood in the lobby of her clinic and listened to the helicopter as it made it's sweep on the inner gate. She, like the rest of her unit, waited for it's gunners to take care of what remained of their opposition.

She closed her eyes out of reflex when she heard the minigun carve another swathe through their unfortunate opponents. Even though she knew that they were the enemy, that any of them would most likely have killed them all or worse at the sight of them, she felt a pang of sympathy for the poor souls out there who had to meet their end at the hands of their compatriots.

"Starbuck, you can unload your passengers, over." Kurata said.

She turned her head to look into the small side room that served as their connection to the outside world, to Alnus, and the group of people who had crowded around it, curious to what the almighty JSDF were doing.

She stepped out into the cool night air and watched as the helicopter that carried their support landed, and as the door opened and as she saw the contractors, in their grey uniforms, disembark, followed by a dark elf of all people, her face contorted into one of confusion.

She never had thought that one of the people of the Special Region, let alone a member of one of the most clannish groups that they had come across would follow, and from what she could gather, rather casually, these glorified guns-for-hire.

Kuwahara exited behind her and went to meet them, and she saw that one of them removed his helmet. It was the blonde one, the one who had argued with her commanding officer, reach out to shake his hand and began explaining to him what they had planned to do from here on out. She watched as her commanding officer breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of extra ammunition and ordnance being brought.

When they approached the clinic he nodded to her.

"Brought you some extra hands if you're willing." He said.

She weighed her options. The Contractors weren't a bunch of rookies. They couldn't have been if they picked up a contract like this, but what help could they offer outside of fire support?

"I'm more than willing, I'll take anyone I can get. Are any of them trained in medicine or first aid?" She asked.

He pointed at one of them, the hispanic man she remembered from the saurian lair. He kept a cool head as he fired on the beasts, and when they began to overflow and pile up, he retreated calmly as he continued to lay down fire upon them.

"A fair number of us have got some form of training but Santiago's the most qualified. He and Coughlin'll help you out. You tell them what to do and they'll do it for you." He answered.

She processed that. She knew of the two. Santiago was formerly a man of medicine, so he could be useful. The name Coughlin did not ring any bells though.

"They'll do."

Moore turned around and waved to Santiago, who'd been speaking with one of the members of RCT3. The soldier pointed to Moore and Kurokawa and the two walked over.

"She needs some help." Moore explained.

"We've got thirty wounded on our end. We have enough medical supplies but I'm the only one here with enough medical knowledge to match their injuries." Mari added.

Santiago looked between the two, then pointed to the clinic's door.

"They're in there?" He asked.

Mari nodded, then Santiago nodded back.

"Let's get to work," He said, then looked around for a moment, as if he was looking for someone. He spotted who it was he was looking for and called out to them.

"Coughlin!" Moore shouted.

Coughlin, who had been assisting a wounded man with his journey to the clinic, left him to Tomita and jogged over. She remembered him as well, the brown-haired Irishman who chuckled at the argument that their respective superiors had gotten into. She wondered as to what kind of help he could be, but according to Moore he would be of some use, and there weren't many other options available to her at the moment.

"S'going on? Need me for something?" He asked.

"You're gonna be helping me and this nice young lady." Santiago answered, then pointed at Kurokawa.

Coughlin looked at her and then at Santiago, his expression changed from one of confusion to a medium between acceptance and confusion. He nodded in response to Santiago's order, and with a crack of his knuckles walked past the two of them and opened the clinic's door.

"Let's fuckin' get to it then. Who do I gotta hold down?"

* * *

Mick sat up in the steeple. He'd tried his hardest to make it into something of a nest, where he could stay up there for long periods of time, but there was only so much one could do to make cold stone comfortable.

He heard someone coming up the stairs, but he didn't pay it any mind as he continued to watch over the main road to the palace. He heard the rough baritone voice that he knew was Dima's.

"Food." He said.

He'd always been a man of few words. Mick liked that about him. He was like the Captain. He was a man of action. The weariness that he saw in his face, in the bags under his eyes and the way he put the tray, a beautiful one, most likely made of silver and inlaid with some nobleman's crest, on the ground.

"Any word from Alnus?" Mick asked.

He took something from the tray, a slice of some kind of bread that the Roses had shared with them, and took a bite of it. Dima took a piece of it as well.

"Yep. Said that when we got attacked and so did some place called Akusho. Apparently it's some kind of slum here. They've sent reinforcements there."

Mick eyed him curiously, but he took another bite of the bread. It wasn't that bad, but it left a lot to be desired. According to the Roses, it was some kind of ration that could last quite a long time. To him though, it was just hard bread. Bland, tasteless, and somewhat hard bread. To a degree, it reminded him of the hardtack his family would pack when they went on an extended camping trip when he was younger. Somehow, he missed that right now. It would have been a lot better than this poor excuse.

"Who?" He asked.

"Strike One and Two. They were the closest that could mobilize quickly." Dima answered.

"No shit?"

Mick leaned in closer to Dima to hear him better. This was some news he wanted to hear.

"No shit. They're going to secure the place, make room for the next wave. Apparently there's a lot going on. No idea how much time they've got so they're doing it soon."

"Any chance we'll get out of here?"

Dima shrugged in response and took another bite of the bread.

"I know as much as you do about that. We're here until we get extracted or we can leave, whichever comes first."

Mick rolled his eyes and finished the last of his piece. Good god, did it taste awful. It was something though, and since they had began to run short on supplies, they would have to make what they had count.

He saw as Dima's smirk faded, only to be replaced by his usual steely demeanor.

"What's your problem?" Mick asked.

Dima didn't answer, but instead stood up and walked over to one of the slits in the steeple. Mick was concerned now, and he stood up and followed him. When he joined him, a little part of him wished he hadn't.

Imperials marched down the path. The trees blocked most of the path, but he could make out that there were at least over seventy-five that he could see, and it didn't appear that the tide of soldiers were stopping anytime soon.

"Fuckin' hell! Positions!" Turnbull shouted, his voice crackling over Mick and Dima's radios.

The two looked at each other, and with a confirming nod, Dima left the steeple, descending the stairs two at a time. Mick knew where he was headed. He had the perfect place picked out for that LMG. Mick knelt down, grabbed his rifle once more and braced it against his shoulder. Whatever they were doing here again, it wasn't anything good. He saw that there were multiple of those men who wore the wolf hoods interspersed throughout their ranks. A man, this one with a robe and some sort of circlet he wore over his pale-blue hair, strode to the front of the formation with a man similar to the one Mick had shot before. The one who looked like a leader for these Gestapo. The blue-haired one strode back into the ranks after he whispered something to the other man.

"Roses and their Japanese allies! Our great and illustrious emperor Zorzal has given you another chance to lay down your arms! Make the most of this chance and come with us quietly! No more shall have to die if you do this!" He shouted.

 _No more of you, you mean, you fuckin' fruity-looking prick, standin' there like you're some kinda bloody bigshot behind the fuckin' real men._

Mick's gaze went further up, farther up the path. There were so many soldiers! If he had to take a guess, there must have been well over two-hundred. He steadied himself and trained his sights on the chest of the dog-headed prick. Another heart shot. He'd be dead before he hit the ground.

Turnbull would give him the order to fire if it was needed. He trusted him. He knew what he was doing. Last night, they were after two civilians. This time they wanted _them_. Over the radio, a female voice could be heard.

"The Oprichnina are with them. They're most-likely planning to capture us." Bozes explained, her whisper amplified by the microphone she wore.

The fact that Turnbull taught them how to use the radio was something that still made Mick chuckle, even a few days after he had taught them.

"I've got a shot lined up, Captain. Right on the front Dog-Head." He said over the radio.

"Good. This'll probably end in a bloodbath if I've got any idea how these people act. All of you be ready to open fire on them, and Miss Palesti, don't allow your men to engage the enemy in melee unless they make it to the palace. I'm going to get some more grenades." Turnbull replied.

The rest of the team confirmed their positions in tandem. In the quiet that befell the courtyard, he could make out Miss Palesti, her voice cutting through the silence.

"You already know the answer to that! You follow a charlatan, a deceiver to the throne! Zorzal will lead you all to ruin! The Japanese are not your enemies!" She retorted.

This outburst must have stirred something within the man, for his face became aflame with a look of primal fury, and as he reached for the hilt of the sword at his hip, Mick heard Turnbull over the radio once more.

"Mick, take the shot." He said.

With a squeeze of his trigger, the man died. His corpse dropped to the dirt, a red bloom forming on the front of his robes. He'd not even gotten his sword completely out of it's scabbard. The men closest to him backed away slightly, but they were stopped and urged forward by the commissars and other soldiers behind them.

Mick began to pray under his breath as the formation began to advance on them. He slid his EBR to the side and reached for his AK. He'd need it more. As he flicked its two-round burst setting, Nessa could be heard over the radio.

"They've begun advancing, Captain!"

"Fire at will. Don't let them get to the palace!" Turnbull ordered.

From outside the steeple, gunshots could be heard, and as Mick looked back out, he saw that the soldiers began to fall in rapid succession as his team began to open fire into their ranks. He aimed his AK at the crowd and followed suit. When their rear guard began to rain down arrows and, in a few cases that came a little too close for Mick's comfort, fire and lightning, he flattened himself against the steeple's floor and reloaded, his new mag knocking the empty one out of the way. Over the woosh of fire and the crack of lightning, he couldn't hear it clatter to the floor.

 _Fuck!_

There must've been more than he could make out. When Dima would cut a swathe through their ranks, more would advance over their corpses. As he switched his rifle to automatic and began to let loose into the trees that obscured the road that led to the palace's entrance, he let out longer bursts, in some vain hope that he could at least partly staunch the flow of arrows that came their way.

 _Fuckin' fuck!_

From the balcony Dima fired from, Turnbull joined him in his battery. A loud thunk, followed by an ear-ringing explosion could be heard as he launched a grenade into the soldier's ranks, and the dust, smoke, and other, more gruesome things that were kicked up by it were thrown into the air rained down upon their comrades. They weren't ready for it. They'd been told what the Imperials had thought to expect, but to see it in action, was something that they couldn't be trained for. Even the Oprichnina had begun to lessen their resolve.

Mick could see in the ones behind the forlorn hopes had started to retreat. That didn't apply for the vanguard, though. Some of them had somehow made it to the Roses' lines. They held them off valiantly, but he saw that a few of them had begun to get overwhelmed. The Captain had this covered. They needed help keeping them from the entrance. He hurried down the stairs, two at a time as he spoke into his radio.

"They need help securing the front!" He shouted.

"Get down here then!" Ron said.

"Keep hammering em'!" Turnbull ordered.

The team acknowledged. He met Ron as the two ran to the front doors of the palace and threw them open. As he ran out, he felt something slam into him and knock him over. The thing tumbled with him. He caught a glimpse of Ron as he tore into the mountain of a man that had thrown the person into him. The man was something else, a mountain of a man that swung some manner of club with ease. It didn't matter to Ron though. His shotgun shot tore through his breastplate without effort, and the man was thrown backward into the ranks behind him. Mick reached for his AK and began to fire blindly into the Imperial ranks.

When the smoke from it cleared, they saw that their enemies had begun to retreat. Mick sat up, still dazed from the impact of that Purple-Haired Rose being thrown into him. As another Rose came over to help her stand, he looked out and saw that there were no Imperials left standing. So many were dead, and the moaning and crying of those that were not that lucky could be heard clearly in the unnatural quiet that had followed the battle. His breath caught, only for a moment, before he radioed in his findings.

"No notable movement, Captain. We..." He started, his tone flat and dead.

"What? 'We' what Mick?" Turnbull asked.

The courtyard was a petulant, open-air mass grave by the time that they were done firing. As he stood up he took in the hellscape that laid before him. He could hear the Roses retching and trying to console those of them who simply couldn't handle seeing what he and his compatriots had wrought in front of them.

"We got em' all sir." Mick answered.

He removed the mag from his AK and checked it. He wasn't surprised to see that there were no rounds left. He must have lost his cool at some point during the slaughter. His hand, which was normally steady, shook as he dropped the mag into his dump pouch.

"No one leave the palace grounds. We're on around-the-clock sentry duty until we can get out of here. Mick, Sabra's gonna take your place in the steeple for now. Get yourself some rest." Turnbull ordered.

"Gotta reload this mag, Cap, I need to get back to my-" He started, before he was cut off.

"Get yourself some rest, son. That's an order."

He hesitated to reply for a moment, but he eventually found his words.

"Yes Sir."


End file.
